#party city employee jaskier

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

lip sync your way into my heart

( @thecomfortofoldstorries and I got into a fun head-cannon debate last night about Tik Tok POVs and this is what happened)

--- Jaskier has never really been in the loop when it comes to social media. He was behind the curve when he made his Tumblr and he was two years late to sign up for Twitter. It’s no surprise that he finally downloads Tik Tok and makes an account several months after it’s become a viral platform.

That also means all the good usernames are taken; Jaskier types in @buttercup-bard, sees that it’s available, and calls it a day. This isn’t an app he’s going to care about. It’s just to waste time during his forty minute commute to and from campus. 

Alas, he has ADHD...and this shit is addictive.

Especially, he hates to admit, the thirst-trap hotties who do weird, obscure, edgy POV videos. Jaskier knows they’re aimed primarily towards teen and young adult women but he’s a red-blooded Redanian gay. He’s horny. He can watch a few POV Tik Toks on the bus and thirst after pretty boys with big muscles...as a treat.

By Jaskier’s second week of classes he’s found a definite favorite Tik-Tokker (is that what they’re called? Or is it influencer? Jaskier doesn’t care). The guy is gorgeous. He has beautiful honey-gold eyes and long, silvery-white hair; which is appropriate since his handle is @whitehairdontcare. He makes a wide range of content, too. Perfect for Jaskier’s Concerta-focused tastes. There are some dances here and there and some Q&A videos, but for the most part he does POVs. 

Jask and his roommates, Essi and Priscilla, have spent many happy hours poring over Mr. White Hair’s account, watching and re-watching their favorites from his vast repertoire of content. Essi loves his weird, edgy-boi shit. Stuff with titles like “POV: I fight the bully who insulted your haircut” or “POV: you make a deal with the devil for true love”. Stuff that Jaskier would have been into when he still listened to My Chemical Romance on the regular (okay, he still does, but don’t tell Essie). 

Priscilla is a huge fan of Tik Tok dances. She follows every challenge and ranks her favorites, compiling them into a YouTube series that’s more for her self-gratification than anything else. Mr. White Hair is generally towards the top of her list whenever he deigns to follow a trend that doesn’t involve badly applied makeup blood smears. The guy clearly works out and the definition of his body (and the movements of said really hot body) make the dances look so much more fluid and fun. Jaskier and Priscilla clearly share a brain-cell when it comes to appreciating Mr. White Hair’s hotness.

Jaskier’s favorites, of course, are the cute little POVs that lie scattered between all the edgy ones. Stuff made for the softies of Tik Tok. Stuff made for boys like Jaskier. “POV: I fix your car for you” is the one he’s probably re-watched the most. Mr. White Hair is lying on his back beneath a jacked-up blue car, oil smeared in a few strategic places on his face, chest, and arms. At the very end of the Tik Tok he moves the wrench out of the way of his face completely and winks directly into the camera.

Jaskier hates to admit it, even to himself, but no matter how many times he’s watched that stupid twenty-give second video, that wink drops his heart straight down into his shoes and fills his stomach with butterflies.

---

“Hey do you guys carry fake blood here?” an almost terrifyingly deep voice asks from behind him. Jaskier twirls around on his heel, Retail Smile firmly in place, and loses his shit the moment he sets eyes on his latest customer.

It’s Mr. White Hair.

Here. In the middle of the aisle of the Party City where Jaskier works every weekend. He’s either going to throw up or pass out or both. 

He doesn’t though. Instead, the Demon Lord of Retail possesses his body momentarily and nods, “Right over this way!” He leads the insanely attractive influencer over to the year-round section of Halloween FX makeup and gestures towards the shelf filled with various fake blood capsules, bottles, and packets. 

“Thanks,” Mr. White hair smiles. Jaskier nods again, silent, and drifts back towards the counter in a daze. He’s the only one on shift right now (it is not a very busy Party City) and he knows that he can’t pass out on the dirty tile floor or he’ll get fired (and perhaps tetanus). He just needs to power through the next few minutes and then he can crouch next to the helium tank and freak the fuck out.

But not until Mr. White Hair is gone.

Just as Jaskier is re-learning how to breathe normally, the sexy internet star makes his way towards the counter with an armful of products and the retail worker loses it again. Thank god for the ability to compartmentalize.

“So, just these for you?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem! I love your Tik Toks by the way,” Jaskier replies automatically. His eyes widen slightly. Why the fuck did I mention his Tik Toks!?

“Thanks,” the guy says and blushes. “I didn’t know they’d gotten so popular.”

“You have like two million followers?” Jaskier laughs. “I think that makes you pretty popular. Maybe even famous.”

“Oh yeah...right.” 

“Anyway, your total is going to be twenty-one fifty.”

Mr. White Hair pays and Jaskier bags all his fake blood, wondering the whole time exactly what kind of content he can look forward to seeing. More of Essi’s edgy shit, apparently. As he’s handing the plastic bag over the counter, Jaskier smiles and works up the courage to ask, “Is your hair naturally white? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just really pretty.”

Geralt’s face goes slightly pinker than before and he nods. “Yeah. Weird genetic thing. Thanks.”

“No problem. Right on,” Jaskier beams. “Well, it was nice meeting a famous person. Thanks for stopping in.”

“Thanks for helping me out,” the Tik Tokker replies. Jaskier watches him exit the store before ripping his phone from his pocket and dialing Essi. He needs to talk to her before he spirals into a giddy panic attack.

---

“Hey Jask have you seen that hot guy’s latest Tik Tok?” Priscilla asks, lounging across her futon like a queen. Jaskier looks up from his copy of The Collective History of Aedirnian Funeral Dirges and wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion.

“No, why?”

“You should go check your phone. I think you’ll be happily surprised.”

“Oh-kay,” Jaskier says, drawing out the ‘kay’ for as long as it takes him to get up from his seat on the floor and exit the room. He retrieves his phone from the charger in the kitchen and returns to Priscilla’s bedside. He opens his new favorite app and pulls up @whitehairdontcare’s page. There’s a new POV from earlier this morning and Jaskier taps on it. 

His eyes go round when he reads the caption: “POV: You’re the cute cashier at the Party City and I’m bad at flirting”. 

Mr. White Hair is staring into the camera with those beautifully golden eyes, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand while he lip syncs to whatever song is playing. He’s wearing a tight, navy blue v-neck and Jaskier can see the movement of every one of his ridiculously defined muscles as they flex. The silver wolf’s-head necklace Mr. White Hair always wears around his neck is in its usual place, dangling down between those perfect collarbones…

Jaskier takes a shaky breath and glances up at his friends, who are staring back at him with wide eyes. “It could be about anyone.”

“How many Party Cities do you think he went to yesterday?”

“I’m not going to get my hopes up,” Jaskier snorts. “He’s a social media influencer and I am one semester away from finishing my degree and my thesis. Why would he ever want to be with someone like me?”

Essi rolls her eyes and Jaskier goes back to his homework. 

---

Later that night, alone in his room, Jaskier plugs his earbuds into his phone and watches the Tik Tok over and over. He finds the song Geralt used and adds it to his Work Is Tough playlist, which he’s allowed to play over the loudspeakers at the store so long as he’s working a solo shift. 

He watches Mr. White Hair’s plush pink lips move around the words and dreams of kissing them someday, as far-fetched as that scenario is (because this video is definitely not for him, that’s impossible):

“My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.

So won't you kill me, so I die happy.

My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury,

or wear as jewelry; whichever you prefer.”

Fucking Dashboard Confessional. Of course. One of Jaskier’s favorite bands from his emo days in middle school. If this really was for Jaskier, if this really was a legitimate attempt at online flirtation by Mr. White Hair himself, it was working.

 Jaskier buries his head in his pillow and sighs. 

[devendrasbeard]

Only If For A Night

Prompt: They’ve had a few drinks Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier Rating: E Content Warnings: Drunkness, Drunk Kissing, Drunk Confessions Summary:  Eskel is a private driver for a very famous and very successful fashion designer. Having seen the more private side of his boss, he eventually develops feelings for him. One night of drunken confessions can bring a massive change to their professional relationship.

Also on ao3!

"My dear friends, acquaintances, sponsors and clients!" Jaskier's happy voice, amplified by several speakers around the small stage, echoed across the hall. "Thank you for gathering here tonight, so that you'll be the first ones to see, admire, and buy the newest designs from my Dandelions collection!"

A round of applause and excited gasps was heard as a group of androgynous models dressed in wonderfully flowy gowns joined Jaskier on the stage. The clothes were kept in a gender neutral fashion, the fabrics thin as if made of morning mist, but at the same time vibrant with colors, their ethereal vibe contrasted with black hemming at the edges.

"In the next hour the models will be available for you, so that you can get a feel of the clothes, talk about how comfortable of a wear these are. You can even try something on, if the models let you!" Jaskier continued into the microphone. "Just remember - these are real people, not coat hangers! I expect respect towards them and no stepping over any boundaries!"

Eskel stood at the far end of the hall, leaning comfortably against a wall, now and then taking a sip from his glass of water. The day was very hot as for late May, so he was wearing a simple white buttoned up shirt with short sleeves and some black slacks instead of his usual suit ensemble. He loosened the knot in his thin black tie, as he watched Jaskier walk down from the stage and fall into the embrace of his enthusiastic friends.

He liked watching Jaskier, his boss, from afar. Jaskier was fierce, flamboyant and bubbly around his friends, at events, and in front of the media people, but when he thought nobody was looking, his face turned pensive, sometimes even sad. That melancholic, brooding side of Jaskier showed up mostly in the evenings, when the lights went out, his friends went home and it was just him and Eskel driving him home. Eskel liked that side of him.

A few hours into the after party Jaskier approached him, hugging a whole bottle of bourbon to his chest. His cheeks were flushed, blue eyes glistening, his elaborate hairstyle already mussed a little. "Fuck me if this isn't the best collection I've made so far."

Eskel nodded, trying to suppress a chuckle. Whenever Jaskier was tipsy, he forgot about any conventionalities and talked to Eskel as if he was his long time buddy, not his private driver. "It's really good." Eskel admitted. "Need my assistance with anything?"

Jaskier placed a warm palm on Eskel's chest, his bright blue eyes looking up at him. "I wanna go home, my head feels dizzy from all the hugs, fake kisses and congratulations."

"You're sure it's the congratulations and not the bourbon?" Eskel cocked his head, raising a brow in amusement.

"Hey!" Jaskier's long finger was now poking at Eskel's chest. "I pay you to drive me around, not to judge my life's choices."

"Let's go then, I'll drive you home," Eskel nodded and led Jaskier to the door, desperately trying not to wrap a protective arm around his boss' frame.

****

Jaskier ducked his head through the partition divider, resting his chin on his hands. The strong smell of alcohol mixed with Jaskier's flowery cologne hit Eskel's nose. "Do you like me, Eskel?" He whispered, too close to Eskel's ear.

Eskel shot him a quick glance through the rearview mirror, clearing his throat. "How do you mean?"

"Am I likeable?" Jaskier pouted and cocked his head to the side, to lay it on the cold metal frame of the divider. "Do you like me as a person? I know I am trying to be a good boss and I hope you're satisfied with the work you're doing here for me and that I'm not a pain in the ass for making you drive me around... But am I likeable as a person? Can you even look at me as a person and not your boss, slash famous designer?"

Eskel huffed, feeling goosebumps creeping up his neck. So today's drunk Jaskier's mood was philosophical. Through his last year of driving Jaskier around he's seen him in every sorry state - from being awkwardly horny after a hook up gone wrong, through being insanely euphorical and singing at the top of his lungs in the back seat, to being absolutely shit-faced, making Eskel stop the car every five minutes, so that he could get out and barf on the sidewalk.

But Jaskier asking him if Eskel liked him caught him off guard. What was he supposed to say to that? That ever since he started working for him, he wanted to wrap his arms around Jaskier and kiss him so hard he'd forget his own name? That his heart fluttered everytime Jaskier sent him that deep look and loving smile when they accidentally locked eyes in the rearview mirror? That he's been yearning to spend every second of his life with him? That he loved everything about him - his generosity, his laugh, his creative mind? This wasn't Eskel's place, he was just Jaskier's employee, yet he felt compelled to say something. "You're a good person, Jaskier." He tried.

"Then how come that on the day my newest collection premieres..." He stopped, interrupted by a series of hiccups. "Why is that, that people hug me and kiss me and yet..." He plopped dramatically onto the back seat and sighed. "Why am I yet again going home alone?"

Eskel sighed, a feeling of a thousand needles prickling on his skin. He wanted to pull Jaskier up and wrap him in a tight embrace and scream at the top of his lungs that he was there for him, always, forever! Instead he sighed again, turned to Jaskier for a second and asked, "Should I put your fave music on?"

"Yes, please," Jaskier mumbled. "Thank you, Esk."

****

"We're here," Eskel turned to Jaskier after he parked the limo outside of Jaskier's apartment building. "Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?"

Jaskier smiled at him, sitting splayed all over the backseat, his hair a mess and his shirt already halfway open, giving Eskel more than a sneak peek of his thick chest hair and the several necklaces dangling on his torso. Eskel swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry, and then Jaskier leaned forward and whispered, "You can come upstairs with me."

Eskel's eyes widened, a hotness creeping up his neck. It was all he ever wanted, but he felt he shouldn't do it tonight, not with Jaskier in this state of mind. He had to think and be reasonable for them both. "Jaskier... You're drunk and tired, I don't think that's a-" A warm finger on his lips shut him up.

"That bottle of bourbon won't empty itself," Jaskier tried for a seductive smile which turned out pretty wonky, but still managed to tug at Eskel's heartstrings. "C'mon, just one drink? You can probably drive after one drink?"

Eskel huffed, his mind racing and trying to weigh all the pros and cons of the situation he's gotten himself into. Jaskier looked at him with pleading eyes, not saying anything, waiting for Eskel's move. "Okay, one drink."

They got out of the car, Jaskier propping himself up on Eskel's shoulder as they entered the building. "Good morning, Jerome," Jaskier addressed the concierge with a wide smile.

"It's midnight, Mr. Pankratz," the concierge rolled his eyes, the look on his face indicating he's seen Jaskier in this state more than once.

As soon as they got into Jaskier's penthouse, Jaskier moved straight to the alcohol cabinet, leaving Eskel in the middle of the spacious living room. Eskel looked around the place, admiring all the art pieces on the walls and various trinkets scattered around the furniture. But the view from the vast windows was what truly mesmerized him - he moved towards the glass walls, gazing down at the night city, so calm and otherworldly from here.

"Thank you for joining me," Jaskier's voice next to him startled him a little. "I really didn't want to be home alone tonight," he added quietly.

"No problem," Eskel smiled at him, noticing that now besides the bourbon bottle, Jaskier was also nursing a flask of red wine. He held both up for Eskel to choose his drink from. Eskel took the wine bottle and asked, "Should I fetch us some glasses, or do I just chug straight from the bottle?"

Jaskier patted his shoulder lightly, laughing too loud, as if Eskel told a joke, then hiccuped a little. "I'll get us some glasses, you..." he waved towards the sofas and armchairs, "you make yourself comfortable."

Eskel didn't get to sit yet when he heard the sound of breaking glass and a sharp hiss coming from the kitchen. He jumped up, leaving the wine bottle on the table and moved towards Jaskier.

"It's nothing, it's nothing," Jaskier was already kneeling on the floor, clumsily collecting the broken pieces of a wine glass. "Guess everything went too smoothly for me today."

The sigh that left Jaskier's lips sounded more like a broken whimper and Eskel's heart physically hurt at the sight of his famous and successful boss looking so small and pitiful in the middle of his kitchen. He felt like crying. "Leave it, I'll clean it up," he offered. "Maybe you should go to bed, lay down a little?"

Jaskier looked up at him, the gaze of his blue eyes unfocused. He pointed at Eskel with his index finger while standing up. "No, you-... You've promised me that one drink!"

"Fine."

****

Two hours later Eskel knew he wasn't going to make it home that night. The wine bottle in his hands was almost empty, and he felt slightly light-headed and dizzy, but not drunk. Jaskier, on the other hand, was already edging on wasted, his shirt now unbuttoned, cheeks red, his words incoherent and slurry.

"Y'know, I'm fully aware of my... My pre... my pry... My privilege," he blurted out, "but yet I give myself permission to feel miserable from time to time... And now is the day!" he gestured with his hand, in which he held the bourbon bottle, spilling a little on the table.

"Okay, I'll take this," Eskel grabbed the bottle from him as Jaskier plopped back onto the sofa.

"How do you know who's your friend?" Jaskier asked, his gaze focused on the ceiling as if he was trying to find an answer there. "People hug me and kiss me and invite themselves into... Into my life and then what? They want free stuff, they want contacts with my famous friends, they want..." He stopped and looked over at Eskel, his blue eyes sad and pleading, as if he waited for Eskel to give him a solution.

"Look for those who stick around when the lights go out, when the party's over... For-for those who ask you how you feel and not what you can give to them." He felt the hotness of embarrassment creep up his neck, his ears turning red. He was talking about himself and he only gave himself permission to do so because Jaskier was drunk and wouldn't remember it the next day.

"That's... wise," Jaskier nodded and reached out with his hand to pat Eskel's cheek. Then his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to remember something important. "You never asked me for anything."

Eskel cleared his throat, and turned his face away from Jaskier, to hide his unease. "I'm... I'm fine. I'm happy with my job."

"Yeah? What do you do for a living?" Jaskier asked.

That caused Eskel to chuckle, and Jaskier followed with his pearly laugh, although he didn't know what was going on, and in a moment they were both laughing loudly and snickering like children. Jaskier patted Eskel's knee several times before leaning back onto the sofa.

"Jaskier, I work for you. I drive you around, remember?" Eskel said, wiping tears of mirth from the corner of his eye.

"Right." Jaskier nodded. "I hope I pay you well."

"You're a good boss," Eskel smiled. They locked eyes for a long moment, not saying anything. Jaskier licked his lips subconsciously and Eskel had to look away, the sight causing a warm feeling to coil in his stomach. "Alright, boss, time to get you to bed," he cleared his throat. "I'll crash on the couch if you don't mind, can't really drive now."

"Oh no no, no sleepin' on couches in my house! I have guest rooms for guests!" Jaskier stood up abruptly, too quickly for the drunken state he was in. His foot kicked the table leg and he wobbled a little, losing his balance.

He landed in Eskel's lap, Eskel instinctively putting a protective arm over him to save him from falling over and onto his back. Jaskier grabbed Eskel's shoulder for balance and suddenly their faces were incredibly close. So close Eskel could smell Jaskier's cologne, now suppressed by the tangy scent of bourbon. He was so close that Eskel could see those tiny crows feet forming at the corners of Jaskier's eyes, he could notice his flared nostrils and the wet shimmer on his lips. He swallowed audibly.

"Whoo, that was close. Thank-... Thank you," Jaskier laughed lightly and squeezed his shoulder. In a silent reply, Eskel caressed Jaskier's back gently, so delicately as if he didn't want Jaskier to feel it. But apparently Jaskier did, because he leaned forward and pressed a soft butterfly kiss to Eskel's lips. He pulled away and looked Eskel deep in the eyes, while undoing his tie. "Could you... Can you, just for tonight, forget that I'm your boss?" he asked quietly.

Eskel looked at him wide eyed, frozen in place and unable to speak. But when Jaskier gave his tie one last slight tug, he was lost. He's been waiting for that little sign, for a nod of permission, and as soon as he got it, he launched forward, pushing Jaskier off his knees and pressing him down onto the sofa with his weight.

He kissed him, reluctantly at first, but when Jaskier let out the first quiet whimper of pleasure, Eskel was all lost on him. He pressed his lips to Jaskier's, with his eyes closed, trying to put into that kiss all that yearning and longing he'd felt for Jaskier for months.

Jaskier was under him, sighing and panting, arching into Eskel’s touch. Responding to every kiss with passion. Eskel moaned into Jaskier's mouth as his hands roamed under his already open shirt, caressing the soft skin on Jaskier's sides, skimming over his chest hair and slightly tugging at the multiple necklaces on his neck.

Jaskier sat up and fumbled with the buttons on Eskel's shirt, his now clumsy fingers too uncoordinated to undo them. He tugged desperately at the shirt, causing two buttons to pop off and fall to the floor. They both looked at them, Jaskier with a hint of embarrassment, Eskel amazed with Jaskier's strength. Jaskier pulled at Eskel's shirt and dragged him into another heated kiss. "Off! Just take that shirt off," he demanded between kisses.

As he stripped off of his shirt, Eskel noticed how Jaskier's eyes glistened and how he licked his lips lusciously, before launching himself at Eskel. He peppered his face, neck and chest with kisses, murmuring "You're beautiful" and "I love you so much" between kisses, making Eskel writhe with pleasure and whine with emotions, because he so wanted Jaskier to mean it.

"Can I take you to the bedroom?" Jaskier asked while tugging at the waistband of Eskel's slacks. "God, why is the belt so complicated?" He threw his hands up losing his balance and landing on the floor. Eskel reached out to help him up, only to be dragged down to the floor right next to Jaskier.

"Okay, bedroom it is," he laughed into Jaskier's mouth, who already managed to slot their lips in another heated kiss.

****

Eskel woke up with his head feeling very heavy, his mouth dry as if he'd eaten sand. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, taking in the situation. He was naked, with only the bedsheets tangled around his legs. Jaskier was sleeping next to him, lying on his stomach, one hand draped comfortably around Eskel's waist. He was equally naked, his perky ass sticking out from under the covers.

Eskel watched him mesmerized, noticed how beautifully lean and supple Jaskier's body was, he watched how he moved slightly with every breath... And then tiny bits of memories of last night hit him like a wave. He remembered the passionate kisses Jaskier showered him with, how unbelievably soft and pliant Jaskier's body was under his touch, he recalled the weight of Jaskier's cock on his tongue and how wonderfully he moaned Eskel's name with his hand tangled in Eskel's hair...

One part of him wanted to leave before Jaskier would wake up, spare him the awkwardness of a morning after. They never planned on something like that, after all they were boss and employee, they just let alcohol get the best of them. The other part of Eskel wanted to stay, to savour the moment of absolute intimacy and vulnerability between them. That other part wanted all this drunken mishap to turn into something more than just a one night stand.

Then Jaskier stirred next to him, waking up, pulled himself closer to Eskel's chest and murmured a soft "Good morning." He sat up, dragging one hand through his disheveled hair, taking in the sight of their naked bodies. "So... I guess last night ended up better than expected?" He shot Eskel an embarrassed smile. "Did we... You know. Go all the way?"

"I honestly don't know," Eskel admitted sheepishly, pulling the bedsheets up to cover the both of them. "Are you okay, Jaskier? You didn't go easy on the bourbon last night."

"I'm fine," Jaskier waved him off, but his eyes narrowed and he worried his lower lip and Eskel knew he was trying to recall what happened last night. "I hope I didn't take advantage of you?"

"Everything I did, I did because I wanted to," Eskel said firmly, though he felt the hotness on his cheeks and ears at the memory of their naked bodies tangled together and Jaskier moaning so sweetly into his ear.

"Yeah?" Jaskier scooted even closer to him under the bedsheets. "Care to remind me what did you actually do?"

Eskel exhaled deeply, feeling Jaskier's hot breath on his neck, making his own skin feel too tight. The memory of Jaskier's body arched beautifully under Eskel's touch flashed before his eyes, and he cleared his throat. "I'm... I'm pretty sure I sucked you off."

"Oh." Jaskier's face was painted with astonishment, but only for a moment. In the next he was already straddling Eskel's lap, braiding his fingers in his dark hair, looking him deep in the eye. "I think it's only fair if I return the favour now?"

Before Jaskier moved down on him, Eskel grabbed his hands and made Jaskier face him. "Listen..." he started, mouth extremely dry, more of nervousness than hangover. "You said some very weighty things to me yesterday, that I really wished were true... But I know this could be just the alcohol's doing." He huffed, pressing his eyes shut. "If it's not what you meant, or how you feel about me, I'd rather leave now."

Jaskier sighed, deeply, but he didn't lower his gaze. He intertwined their fingers and placed a kiss on the top of Eskel's palm. "I remember one thing vividly from last night," he said. "And that is feeling loved and wanting to give as much love as possible back." He kissed the fingers on Eskel's hand. "If you felt the same, I'd rather you stayed. Forever, if possible?"

------

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[kumeko]

Prompt: Geralt/Yennefer & Ciri family fluff

A/N: For @caiabresebun, for @thewitchersecretsanta. Ok. Um. I was going for family fluff, and my sister was watching a lot of Hallmark movies, and thus this monstrous thing came to be with a bit less family fluff than I was planning. I’M SORRY. (I am hoping to add to this later, but uh...)

…

…

…

…

There was something relaxing about the gym. Standing in the center of the boxing ring, his gloves strapped tightly to his fists, Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The whole place had a musty, stagnant smell, the kind of scent that came from being a third-rate gym with third-rate equipment. Places like this were a dime a dozen in the city, entrances tucked away in alleys and after a flight of stairs.

 It was a miracle, honestly, that the place hadn’t closed down yet. It was a pretty small place, barely able to fit in a dozen or two at a time. There was a better Goodlife center around the corner, with proper instructors and amenities. If he was being charitable, he knew he wasn’t the best trainer—he could be hard where others were soft, firm where others bent.

 If it weren’t for the cheap rates, they’d have been in the red years ago. As it was, Geralt didn’t want to question their finances too much. After all, it was only the goodwill of the owner that let him rent the apartment right above the gym. In a city as expensive as New York, he doubted he’d anywhere else as affordable. Especially considering his…uneven employment.

 “Geralt!” A girl called out as she pulled open the door, a bell ringing a few seconds after to belatedly announce her arrival. “I’m home!”

And even if he could find a place to stay, he doubted he’d find one big enough to fit him and his adopted daughter. Geralt opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder as Ciri walked in the room. At thirteen, she was gangly and awkward, all long limbs and flyaway hair. He had maybe a year or two before she grew into her body, and then just mere months before her mind finally caught up and he’d have to deal with whatever teenage tantrums she tossed his way.

 “Good,” Geralt grunted, watching as she plopped her backpack on one of the benches. “You’re late.”

 “Not really!” Ciri protested, pointing at the clock. “It’s only 4:15.”

 “And you normally come back at 4.” Geralt glared at the door, waiting for her irritating babysitter to walk in. When the door remained stubbornly closed, he barked, “Jaskier.”

 “Yeah! Sorry about that.” Jaskier poked his head in through the door and smiled sheepishly. As usual, his brown hair looked like a mouse’s nest, he reeked of cheap perfume, and his clothes looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be punk or rock. Which, to be fair, was exactly how his band sounded like—a confused mishmash of two different sounds.

 For some reason, the ladies loved it.

 Geralt sometimes feared for the future. “What happened?” he asked, already knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.

 “Nothing, nothing!” Jaskier waved the question away with a goofy smile, chuckling in the way he did when he was hiding something. “Just got some ice-cream—”

 “It’s December,” Geralt pointed out flatly.

 “—and took the long way home.” Jaskier winked at Ciri. “Just a little mutual complaining, right?”

 Ciri stared at him for a long minute, then turned to Geralt. “Who’s Yennefer?”

 Geralt stiffened. He hadn’t heard that name in years. He hadn’t expected to hear that name ever again. Immediately, he glared at Jaskier. “You.”

 Jaskier wilted. “You weren’t supposed to ask!” he hissed.

 Ciri snorted, already sounding like a teenager. Sarcasm dripped from her voice as she asked, “Oh, I should just let him stay grumpy forever?”

 “Grumpy?” Geralt clenched his jaw. Part of him wanted to know just what Jaskier said. Another, bigger part of him knew it was his usual brand of nonsense, a mixture of lies, rumours, and a tiny drop of truth. Whatever it was, it was better not to know. Actually, that was almost always the solution when it came to Jaskier.

 “I didn’t say you were grumpy,” Jaskier refuted quickly, scratching his cheek. “More like—”

 “Heartbroken?” Ciri guessed, a sly glint in her eyes and maybe Geralt should start preparing himself now for her teenage years.

 “Yes—no!” Jaskier’s jaw dropped. “Ciri, are you trying to get me killed?”

 “I’m not heartbroken,” Geralt stated, moving past Jaskier’s betrayal for now.

 “He said it’s why you’re grumpy all the time,” Ciri challenged, ignoring Jaskier’s yelps and cries as she revealed their entire conversation. “You miss her.”

 “I don’t miss her.” Geralt smiled wryly at the thought. How could he miss someone who was never there? “It was years ago, Ciri.”

 “It’s been years since my…” Ciri trailed off, her skin paling.

 She didn’t have to finish; he knew what she was about to say.  Crossing the boxing ring, he leaned against the ropes and smiled gently at her. He was never certain of what exactly possessed her grandmother to leave her in his care—knowing the woman, she probably hadn’t wanted to either—but he was glad she did.

 He couldn’t say just how much his life had changed now that Ciri was in it, only that it was for the better. “That’s a different thing,” he replied softly. “Your grandparents loved you very much.”

 She smiled back hesitantly. It had taken her a while to get comfortable enough to talk about her grandparents. They had been practically her parents, raising her since birth. “Yeah.” For a moment, he thought that was the end of that, but she pressed, “And Yennefer?”

 Geralt sighed, running a hand through his hair. Now that it was out, he might as well get it over with. “It was a short thing, just before you came. She wasn’t interested in anything more.”

 Ciri frowned. “That’s it?”

 “That’s it,” he confirmed, shrugging. What else could he tell a child? The connection he’d felt with Yennefer had all been in his head; she’d made it clear enough when she left.

 “Oh.” She sounded disappointed as she picked up her backpack. “I’ll finish my homework.”

 He knew she really meant she wanted to process it all, and he waved her off. “Sure.”

 “And I’ll make my way out—” Jaskier added casually, slinking his way to the door.

 “Jaskier. Ring. Now,” Geralt ordered, his teeth bared as he glared at him.

 -x-

 Yennefer was never certain of what exactly possessed her to join her current company. Well, no, she knew exactly why—her ‘mother’ Trisha worked for their rivals and that was more than a good enough reason to join. Perhaps that was petty, but then again, Yennefer never claimed to be otherwise.

 Pettiness was sometimes the only way you dealt with a woman like Trisha. It was almost impossible to get under her skin. Even all of her years in law school, backstabbing and clawing to the top of her class hadn’t taught Yennefer the right way to twist the knife in her mother’s heart.

 For now, she’d have to make do as the corporate lawyer for a rival business, filing lawsuit after lawsuit and fighting her mother in court.

 “Hey, Yennefer!” Her fellow lawyer, Triss, smiled brightly at her, waving as she entered the hotel lobby. “You’re here early.”

 “Or you’re here late,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. This was precisely what she hated about her workplace. Tech companies as a whole reeked of that sugary ‘we’re all in this together’ attitude, no doubt fostered by their shareholders to trick employees into working free overtime. And the fools ate it up, staying in their offices well past closing because of paltry things like buffet bars and gaming rooms.

 The near-sighted idiots had no idea how much they were being used. It was bad enough the peons were cheerful morons; she didn’t need her fellow lawyers buying into it too.

 Either feigning ignorance or in need of some hearing aids, Triss breezed past her comment like it hadn’t happened. “I didn’t take you for the holiday type.”

 “I’m not,” Yennefer replied flatly. “What gave it away, my black outfit or my black makeup?”

 “Well, that’s true. It’s not very Christmas-y. Or Holiday-y.” She smiled brightly, as though that had been an actual question and not a sarcastic quip. Now Yennefer was certain Triss was faking it. “Or—actually, what do you celebrate?”

 “Nothing.” Yennefer glanced at the champagne in her hands. The second she’d entered the hotel’s ballroom for her company’s ‘Holiday’ party (and oh, they like to say it was ‘Holiday’, even though all of the decorations were so obviously ‘Christmas’. And yet, just like everything else, the fools just ate it all up.), Yennefer had grabbed a glass from a passing waiter. And then another.

 She actually wasn’t certain how many she’d drank so far, but clearly it wasn’t enough if she was still conscious for this conversation.

 “Seems like you celebrate Halloween,” Trisha replied smartly, the closest she’d come to baring her claws so far.

 “And you are a suck up,” Yennefer retorted, already tired of the conversation. “What do you want?”

 “Nothing.” Triss’s smile dropped a notch. Around them, various employees drifted about as they chatted, everyone from the top CEOs to the lower management mingling. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing. Make some small talk.”

 “We see each other every day.” Yennefer glanced around for another waiter. Her drink was almost empty, and she needed another.

 “And you don’t talk about yourself then.” Triss sighed, shaking her head. “Don’t know why I thought it’d be different now.”

 “Me neither.” With a careless wave, Yennefer pivoted and headed to another waiter. Triss sputtered something unintelligible and she hoped it was a curse. It’d make her far more interesting and out of all of the lawyers in her company, she was by far the most attractive.

 A little fire would actually make it interesting to have a fling with her.

 Plucking two glasses from the waiter, Yennefer looked over the rim as she drank, taking in the other employees. It was a small miracle Isetradd had left the company before their holiday party; despite everything that had happened between them, he’d probably make a pass. Depending on how drunk she got, she’d probably say yes. If there was one useful thing about the time of the year, it was that it made it all the easier for her to find some mindless entertainment, to slip in and out of beds without anyone caring.

 Caring.

 For a moment, she thought of a certain silver-haired man and she bit her lip. It had been years. More than that, it had been another petty attack on her mother—sleeping with Tissaia’s temporary bodyguard, was a scandal in the making. Even if only to Tissaia’s eyes.

 She hadn’t expected him to get attached.

 She hadn’t expected herself to be tempted.

 Shaking herself out her thoughts, Yennefer gulped her remaining champagne and headed to the open bar. It had been years; she didn’t understand why he lingered in her thoughts, but this sentimental feeling was a hindrance.

 “Whisky,” she ordered, slipping onto one of the bar stools. “On the rocks.”

 Yennefer was not nearly drunk enough to deal with this tonight.

 -x-

 Geralt could not for the life of him explain exactly how he’d ended up walking through downtown New York with Jaskier in the evening. It was mid-December. It was really cold. It was a weekday.

 “Why am I here?” he asked aloud, glaring at his shorter companion.

 Jaskier grinned, patting him on the back. “Look, I brought up some painful memories, right? Well, what better way to fix that than by helping you make some new, better ones?”

 “That’s a stupid reason.” Geralt turned around. Ciri was definitely not doing her homework right now, probably ordering takeout, and most likely needed his watchful eye.

 “Wait, wait, wait, it’s not!” Jaskier quickly jumped in front of him, pressing his hands on his chest in an extremely futile attempt to get him to stop. They both knew exactly how much Geralt outclassed him in strength, just like they both knew the only reason Geralt had stopped was because he wanted to. “It’s a really good reason.”

 “How?” Geralt knew he’d regret asking this, just like he regretted asking Jaskier anything, really. Somehow, the guy had a silver tongue and a penchant for getting what he wanted, and either Geralt lost time listening to him or ended up agreeing to something he definitely didn’t want.

 Jaskier’s smile grew wider as he gently turned Geralt around and continued to steer him down the street. “Look, you’re still hung up on her—don’t lie to me. I told you she was bad news, you didn’t listen, and this is where it got you. Even Ciri’s worried. You don’t want her to worry, right? You want to show her you’re fine, right?”

 “…is she really that worried?” Geralt muttered, unable to refute it. He wasn’t ‘hung up’ on Yennefer, but he couldn’t deny that he still felt bound to her somehow.

 Jaskier perked up and nodded quickly. “I mean, she wants you to be happy, and you’re kinda mopey and grumpy,” Geralt glared and he hastily amended, “not that it’s a bad thing, we love that part of your, but…you know…it’d be good to know that’s just because you’re you, and not because of some bi—”

 “Where are we going?” Geralt asked, interrupting before Jaskier could go on yet another rant.

 “Every club.” Jaskier gestured at the brightly lit street ahead of them.

 “Every club?” Geralt repeated slowly, not liking the sound of it.

 “Every single one. You’re going home drunk, with someone, or hopefully a combo of the two.” Jaskier pumped his fist, looking determined for once in his life. Why that energy never transferred to his actual work, Geralt never knew.

 “I’m going home tired,” he grumbled, but followed anyway.

 As usual, Jaskier knew every party in town. He had always been the more social one between them, with all the good and bad it came with. For every three people he flirted with, a fourth and fifth were ready to pummel him to death. Deservedly so, Geralt was certain, but if they wanted to kill Jaskier, they’d have to do it out of his sight at least. He needed plausible deniability for when Ciri asked.

 And as expected, Geralt felt very tired by the time they’d hit the fifth one. The parties were as different as can be, from well-dressed elites sipping cocktails to raves better suited for university students, but either way, mostly filled with boring, annoying people that he would rather never see again. Every time Jaskier sensed his patience had hit its limit, he’d drag Geralt off to the next party.

 “How are there so many parties?” Geralt muttered as they entered some ostentatious hotel. The décor was meant to replicate grandeur but felt over-the-top and tacky to him.

 “Christmas!” Jaskier explained, still as cheerful as though it were their first party, and not the nth one. “Every company’s cramming them in this week which is perfect for gate crashers like us.”

 Geralt raised a brow. “Don’t they have security or id?”

 Jaskier shrugged as he led him into the ballroom. “Probably. Now, come on. We’ve been at it all night, and you’re barely buzzed.”

 “You keep dragging us out before I can drink,” Geralt pointed out.

 “No worries here—open bar.” Jaskier grinned, all teeth. “Perfect place to drown your sorrows.”

 “I don’t have any,” he retorted immediately.

 Jaskier shrugged it off. “Sure, sure. You go drink in joy then, and I’m going to take a look at who’s here. See you in ten!”

 Without waiting for a response, he firmly pushed Geralt toward the back and then disappeared. Geralt clicked his teeth but made his way forward. As usual, people stopped and stared at him, though they tried to do it as politely as possible. With his heavy build and long white hair, he knew he was an unusual sight for many.

 “Oh? Look who it is.”

 But not for all. He froze at the familiar sultry voice. Seated at the bar, sipping whisky, was Yennefer. As usual, she looked stunning, her black cocktail dress clinging to her like a second skin. The light flush on her neck and cheeks gave away how drunk she was, though her eyes were as intelligent as ever.

 “Yennefer,” he muttered, reluctantly approaching her. It was only now, only here, that he could privately admit what Jaskier and Ciri had said:

 He was hung up on her.

 He had always been too slow, too simple for the city, and so when he’d gotten caught up in the whirlwind that was Yennefer, he hadn’t realized that what was true for him hadn’t been true for her. That his feelings were only one-sided.

 That to her it was just a game.

 Even this meeting was just another game.

 Yennefer patted the seat next to her. “You should sit.”

 It was like nothing had happened. Steeling himself, he shook his head and stood. “I’ll have a Moscow Mule.”

 The bartender nodded, already pulling out a glass.

 Yennefer wrinkled her nose. “Vodka. Again. You never change, do you?”

 “I try not to,” he muttered, unable to stop himself. She’d always been good at drawing him into a conversation.

 “Still at the…” Yennefer paused, her nose scrunching as she tried to think of the word. “handy-man things?”

 She was definitely drunk. He tried not to care. “Yes.”

 “One-word answers—I told you to fix that.” Yennefer took another sip of her drink. Lifting the glass, she admired the light filtering through the dark brown liquid. “You haven’t learned to talk—business isn’t going to expand that way, you know.”

 “It doesn’t need to.” Geralt shrugged as he got his glass. The ice clinked as he drank. “I’m good.”

 Yennefer snorted. “You mean barely making it.”

 “Everyone’s barely making it, compared to you,” he growled. She always had a way of getting under his skin. “There are other things.”

 “And what do you know of those ‘other�� things?” Yennefer laughed, her red lips curving into a contemptuous smirk. “You’ve hidden in your shell for years.”

 She wasn’t wrong. He’d lived that way for years. Geralt stared at his reflection in his drink. “Not anymore.”

 She raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. “So you have changed.”

 “Yeah. And you haven’t.” He was already tired of the conversation. Picking up his glass, he turned to go when a delicate hand wrapped around his tie. He stared at her perfectly manicured nails before she yanked hard, bringing his lips tantalizingly close to hers. “Yennefer,” he breathed, unable to pull back.

 “Why are you still so goddamn attractive?” Yennefer mused. This close, he could smell the alcohol on her breath, and below it the faint scent of her flowery perfume.

 “I…”

 “It’s unfair,” she murmured, so close now her lips brushed his as she spoke. Suddenly, she slumped on his chest and Geralt froze.

 “Huh?” Panicked, he grabbed her shoulders, lifting her head. Her slow breathing, slightly parted lips, and closed eyes explained everything: she was fast asleep.

 “Had a feeling,” sighed the bartender. “She’d drank too much.”

 Geralt looked at him, panicked. “Where should I put her?”

 He shrugged. “You could ask for a room here, if there’s any still available. Either way, when the party’s over, she has to go.”

 Her shoulders were still too small and fragile, and he held her carefully as he quickly scanned the room. If anyone else here knew or cared about her, they didn’t act like it. Almost no one looked at him, too focused on their conversations.

 “Still no friends,” he muttered. “And I’m the one avoiding people?”

 -x-

 Yennefer woke to a pounding head and a parched mouth. Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten so hammered last night; it was a company party, after all. She had to keep some decorum.

 Yennefer frowned. Company party. Drinking.

 Just when had she gotten home? How? Actually, now that she thought about it, her bed felt oddly hard and the smell…

 Husky, a bit wild, and—

 She knew that smell.

 Yennefer opened her eyes, staring at the vaguely familiar ceiling. It had been years since she’d slept here and suddenly last night came rushing to her. Geralt had been at the bar. Geralt of all people. Quickly, she patted herself, checking that her clothes were still on. Even though she’d made the stupid mistake of going home with him, she certainly hadn’t made the stupider mistake of sleeping with him.

 There was enough complication in her life without adding him back to the mix. Sitting up, she rubbed her head. As usual, the big lug had deposited her on his bed, no doubt sleeping on the couch or something instead.

 “You’re awake!” Yennefer snapped her head to the door, where a young blonde girl eyed her curiously. The girl bounced on her feet slightly. “You’re Yennefer, right?”

 She raised a brow. This was Geralt’s place, right? “And you’re?”

 “Ciri.” The girl grinned before spinning around. “Geralt! She’s awake!”

 Yennefer groaned and lay back down. Either he was married, widowed, or adopting rugrats all over the place. Either way, she wasn’t ready for any of this. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she could pretend nothing happened.

 Yeah.  That’s what she’d do.

 “Yennefer?”

 She grumpily opened her eyes and saw him at the door.

 Well, at least she’d gotten one thing right yesterday. Damn, he’d aged well.

[agoodgoddamnshot]

Picture This - Geralt/Jaskier (Modern!AU)

[Gif isn’t mine]

Fic originally posted to my AO3 account

This isn’t the worst thing that Jaskier’s name has been attached to.  He can think of a handful of scandals that have – in his father’s own words – “made grand attempts at smearing the family name” off of the top of his head. He’ll admit it: some of them were bad. But in the last few months, Julia Alfred Pankratz has been on his best behaviour. There hasn’t been as much as a whisper of him on mainstream media news outlets.  

If he’s being completely honest, this, whatever this is, doesn’t even register as an issue.

So there’s this picture. He’s a musician with a band and he’s pretty damn famous. Of course there’s going to be pictures of him. That’s what happens. Mostly, he’s on stage. Sometimes he’s at galas and dinners and meet and greets. On the very rare occasion, a picture of him will surface on social media, taken by someone from a horrific angle, usually at hip level, showing him just at a friend’s party or something like that.

Anyway, there’s a picture. Yennefer of all fucking people told him about it. Well, that’s not true. He woke up to the sound of Geralt’s phone buzzing insistently on the nightstand. The other man picked it up and answered before Jaskier could slap it out of Geralt’s hand or tell him to turn the damn thing off and get back to spooning him.

And that’s when all of this started.

Jaskier throws an arm over his eyes, shielding them from the bright morning light trying to fight its way into the room. He’s no idea what time it is, but it’s too early for any of this. “I still don’t see why you’re worried.”

The space beside him is cold, despite having dragged Geralt’s share of the blankets over to cocoon himself in comforters. With his arm covering his eyes, all Jaskier can do is listen to the sound of bare feet padding quickly around the room.

“Your father pays me to protect you,” Geralt grunts, rooting through the space around him for what Jaskier can only presume to be the rest of his clothes. God only knows where they ended up.

“And you do!” Jaskier moves his arm and peers over at the man. “Really, the way you took that homophobic preacher guy to the ground the other day was truly a work of art. I didn’t even see him coming.”

Geralt makes a sound. “That’s another problem. Your awareness of your surroundings is non-existent. You need to work on that.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “There’s no problem.”

There’s a picture of them. He should probably make that clear. It’s not like this is the first time Geralt has been caught up in a photograph. In pretty much every picture taken of Jaskier by the paparazzi or the media outlets, Geralt is always somewhere in the background. He even has his own following on Instagram, the bastard. All because one fan of Jaskier’s asked who the hot bodyguard was, and then a hashtag trended and he was fucking asked about it on late night television when he should have been promoting his newest EP but it’s fine—

“Your father is going to have a heart attack.” Geralt sits at the foot of the bed. Pulling on his jeans, he shakes his head. “This might be the thing to kill him, the old bastard.”

Jaskier snorts. “We were just kissing. God, you’re acting like they caught me sucking you off in the back alley of some club.”

Geralt looks over his shoulder. “I’m his employee,” Geralt presses. “I’m your bodyguard.”

And most of the time, that’s all Geralt is. But after the concerts and parties and meetings, when it’s just the two of them, they’re Jaskier and Geralt. Jaskier sits up with a slight huff, a pleasant soreness from last night still buried deep in his muscles. The sheets slip down revealing his bared chest. “I thought we were going to tell him anyway,” Jaskier tilts his head. His fingers fidget with the fabric of the comforter, picking at a couple of stray strands.

Geralt sighs, a heavy and tired sounding thing. “I know.”

“So what’s the issue?”

“Nothing.”

Jaskier snorts. “You can’t just launch yourself out of bed and go stomping around my hotel room over ‘nothing’”.

A quiet moment passes them. Geralt sits motionless at the foot of the bed, head slightly bowed. Jaskier watches him for a second before he makes the decision to join the other man. His skin prickles in gooseflesh as soon as he shuffles out of his cocoon of blankets, despite how high they set the thermostat last night.

Jaskier curls his arms around Geralt’s waist, tugging the man back slightly. It’s a struggle for a minute, with Geralt insisting on brooding and ignoring him. But eventually after another minute – and a well placed kiss against a certain weak spot on Geralt’s neck – the bodyguard leans back into Jaskier’s hold.

The musician dips his head, nosing along the junction of Geralt’s neck and shoulder. “Don’t be broody,” Jaskier mumbles into skin. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

Geralt tilts his head to the side, allowing more access to his neck. A slow and long sigh leaves him. “It’s just...strange. The loss of privacy. The way we have to be so careful around each other.”

Jaskier hums. They’ve spoken about it before: what they can and can’t do when out in public together. When they’re having lunch together, it has to look like it’s just a musician and his bodyguard. Jaskier has had to catch himself a number of times from reaching over the table and taking Geralt’s hand in his. Or letting his foot drift beneath the table to run along Geralt’s calf. When they walk together, he has to stop his fingers from reaching out to interlink with Geralt’s: even though their hands will often brush when they walk side by side.

Geralt is careful not to leave any marks on him. Well, on anywhere that could be seen by wandering eyes. There was that one time though – a pretty prominent hickey left on his neck. Jaskier was quick to brush off rumours about a secret partner when media news outlets started prying. But he remembers how desperately he wanted to say that it was Geralt – yes, the attractive bodyguard. But he stopped himself. He always does. Most of the time, he literally has to bite either his tongue or the inside of his cheek from saying anything.

Jaskier’s hands wander over Geralt’s still bare chest. His shirt from last night is lost to the room. They’ll find it eventually, when they both have to leave. Until then, Jaskier is content with mapping out every patch of skin and muscle of the other man. As if he doesn’t know what he looks and feels like already.

Geralt sighs. “I would have liked to have told him in person. I don’t like the fact that he has to find out about us from a picture published by The Daily Reporter, of all places.”

Jaskier presses a chaste kiss to the man’s temple. “He doesn’t look at the Daily. But his assistant does. I’m sure she’s having a heart attack of her own trying to figure out how to tell him.”

Geralt hums.

Jaskier perches his chin on Geralt’s shoulder. “I could call her? The picture was only published an hour ago, according to Yennefer. I could ask dad’s assistant to keep her mouth shut for a second until we call him ourselves?”

Geralt turns his head. Their noses brush, and even now, Jaskier’s chest tightens with how much he feels for the man. Geralt’s eyes are soft, hooded, looking at him for a second. “Do you want to?” he asks quietly. “Tell him?”

Jaskier frowns. “Of course I do,” he replies. “You’re a part of my life now. He should know.”

Geralt nods, but says nothing else.

The call is a pretty one-sided affair. Most of his conversations with his father are like that, to be honest. Though now it’s the other way around; Jaskier does most of the talking, words just flowing out of him with no breath taken in between. It isn’t until a firm hand settles on his back does he remembers that he does actually need to breathe, and he pulls one in.

Geralt doesn’t say much. But that’s normal. The man isn’t that verbal with most things. Jaskier glances over his shoulder, trying to prompt the man to say something. But he’s met with wide eyes, just staring down at the phone in his hands. And he’s never seen Geralt look so frightened in his life. Which is an odd thing to see. Geralt Rivia, elite bodyguard, who Jaskier is pretty sure may have actually killed someone in his life before Jaskier, looks frightened.

When Jaskier finishes talking, which seems to be an hour later, but a bedside clock tells him it’s only been a couple of minutes, a deafening silence settles over the room. For a terrifying moment, he thinks that the call might have been dropped. That he’ll have to call his father and do the entire thing again. And if that’s the case, his heart might just give out from the stress of it.

But suddenly there’s a muffled sigh on the other end of the line. “Well I suppose there are worse things you could have been caught doing,” his father’s dulled voice comes through the phone. It sounds tired. This isn’t the first thing Jaskier has ever had to call him out, starting the call with a listen, don’t get mad, but—

Jaskier peers over his shoulder to Geralt, lifting his brow. See?

The other man doesn’t look entirely convinced. He looks down at his hands instead, picking at some loose thread on the leg of his jeans.

His father says something else. Something that Jaskier doesn’t quite hear for a moment. Instead, he watches Geralt. Jaskier’s eyes soften. It’s okay, he rests his forehead against the other man’s. Geralt relaxes slightly.

Jaskier takes his father off of speaker. “I’ll talk to you more about it later,” he says into his phone.

His father hums. He’s the one to hang up. Jaskier looks down at his phone long enough for the screen to blink to black. He tosses his phone on to the bed. It buries itself somewhere amongst the sheets and duvet. But Jaskier wraps an arm around Geralt’s bare shoulders, setting his lips against the ridge of Geralt’s jaw. Geralt sighs, melting into the touch.

Jaskier doesn’t have anything to do today. They arrived to the city yesterday evening, and the venue for tomorrow night is still being prepped. Rehearsals will start early tomorrow morning, but with it being the last leg in the tour, Jaskier and the rest of the band know well what they need to do and how to do it. With nothing demanding his attention, he doesn’t feel bad for tugging Geralt down on to the bed with him. The other man grunts, putting an arm out to stop himself from crushing Jaskier beneath him.

“Well, that’s that,” Jaskier smiles.

Geralt looks at him for a second, before leaning forward and kissing his forehead. A small smile tugs at the corner of Jaskier’s lip. Jaskier lifts his chin, catching Geralt’s lips in his own. The arm slung around the bodyguard’s shoulders tightens, pulling him closer until they’re pressed close together.

It’s jarring how well their bodies can slot together. Even after only a handful of months, Geralt’s body can always wrap around his so well it feels like the man had always been there. Geralt moves, sliding into where they were this morning; both on their sides, with Jaskier’s back pressed firmly against Geralt’s chest, with the bodyguard’s arms firmly around him.

Jaskier reaches out as much as he’s able, feeling around for his phone. He finds it buries between some folds of the duvet. Behind him, he feels the other man relax against the bed. Lips settle against the nape of his neck. Jaskier unlocks his phone, opening up his browser and tapping in a website address. He clicks his tongue.

He taps Geralt’s hand, one that has found a resting place over Jaskier’s stomach. “I know that someone from The Daily Reporter took it, and we hate them,” Jaskier says slowly, “but I’ll say it: it’s a good photo. I might get it framed.”

There’s a warm puff of air against his nape. “Jaskier.”

“I’m getting it framed. I’ll hang it over the fireplace.”

“Stop.”

“It’s a statement piece,” Jaskier continues, despite the insistent prodding of Geralt’s finger against his side, “I think it’ll really tie my living room together.”

“Stop.”

[gayllamafromspace]

Yennaia Fic Idea

Plot: 

Tissaia attempts to kill herself in her world (the Witcher Universe), and to the knowledge of everyone there she succeeds. After siting her wrists and falling unconscious, a portal opens and she is drug into and other domension. This domension is lot like our modern world, but the people in it are alternate versions of the one's in her original world. She is found by Yennefer Vengerburg in an alleyway by her apartment bleeding out. Yenefer takes her to the hospital. Tissaia recovers and has to get used to her life in this new world. Her alternate self in this world ceased to exist when she came here, her very exsistance, the memory of everyone who knew her, erased to be replaced by Tissaia from another world. There's a business, an assistants/accountant firm called "The Brotherhood". The alternate Tissaia was one of the co-founders. Alt. Yennefer had once trained under the Alt. Tissaia, but after her first accounting position went terribly south, she quit and started freelancing.

Yennefer barely recognizes Tissaia, namely because of the Victorian era dress, deshieved appearance, and the affect of an outsider entering her universe. This would happen to everyone who knew of Tissaia, they would forget her temporarily, until she introduced herself. Luckily it was Yennefer who found her first. After a bit of convincing, Yennefer finally accepted what had happned. She agreed to help Tissaia adjust, Tissaia would need too or she would raise a lot of questions and possibly get into a lot of trouble. Tissaia would be trying to figure out if her being there would cause problems, but when she realizes that her alternate version has ceased to be upon her arrival she deducted that she had simply melded with her alternate self. This world does not have a war or anything going on, so Cintra is still intact, Callante is still alive, so is Eist. The conflict between the "kingdoms'' is actually business conflict and competition. Anyway, Tissaia has to learn about our world. The modern world, and get used to joy having magic. She has to fill the shoes of her Alt. Self is she's going to make it. Eventually she will catch feeling for Yennefer and vice versa.

Roles:

Yennefer - freelance worker, stand in at Phillipa's bar. Love interest. She lives in an apartment in the city of Adiern.

Tissaia - Suicide attemptee, from an alternate universe. Co-founder of accounting/assistant firm "The Brotherhood", former professor at Aretuza academy for accounting and finance. Love interest. Ends up living with Yennefer for a short while, until she goes to her alt. Self's apartment in Thanedd, close to Aretuza academy and the Brotherhood firm.

Margarita - Headmistress of Aretuza academy, close friend to alt.Tissaia.

Stregobore - Fellow Co-founder of the Brotherhood. Still a pain in Tissaia's ass.

Triss - Accountant for the Brotherhood works for the Temeria buiness owner Foltest, one of Tissaia's former students. Yennefer's friend, she helps Yennefer get jobs occationally.

Sabrina - Accountant for the Brotherhood, works for the Kaedawen business owner, one of Tissaia's former students. Yennefer's friend, they are drinking buddies and occationally get in fights.

Phillipa - Former acountant for the Brotherhood, one of Tissaia's oldest students. Yennefer's friend, she runs a bar and offers Yennefer the night shift when one of her employees are out. Pippa and Yen don't get a long well, but they aren't enimies, Phil tries to set her up with ladies sometimes.

Fringilla - Accountant for the Brotherhood, works for the Nile gard businessman Emyr. Tissaia's former student. Yennefer's arch nemesis.

Geralt - Bodygaurd the was trained at Kaer Morhen school for defence. Yennefer's ex and friend, Jaskier's Boyfriend.

Jaskier - Local big time perormer, performs at Phillipa's bar sometimes and does party gigs. Gearlt I'd his boyfriend and bodygaurd. He and Yennefer hang out occasionally, but they don't always get along.

Artorus - Fringilla's uncle, co-founder of the Brotherhood.

Vilgefortz - Head of security for The Brotherhood building he had/has a thing for Tissaia.

Callante - Owner woman of the Cintran business. She frequents Phillipa's bar. 

Ciri - Heir of the Cintra buisness. She spends weekends with Geralt, who is her godfather.

Mousack - Accountant for Cintra buisness owner Callante, he was not trained at Aretuza.

Istredd - Accountant for the Brotherhood, does field jobs and manages funding for exploritory expeditions. Yennefer's ex.

Renfri - Dead, was a heiress to a buisness, Geralt had failed to protect her from an assassination attempt.

Would anyone be willing to write this? Or will I have too? (If this interests you and you wanna go for it, please do. Change anything you want, just please... tag me if you do write it lol.)

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

lip synch your way into my heart pt. 2

(Part One Here)

@PrissCilla: Is this the guy that your Party City video was about?

The unfamiliar user has attached a picture to their message and Geralt’s eyes widen in happy surprise when he realizes that it is, in fact, Party City Guy. The picture of Party City Guy is a ridiculously adorable candid; he’s reclining in an oversized rainbow beanbag chair, a large textbook sitting on his lap and his lip nestled sweetly between his teeth. 

Geralt wants to know what it feels like to nip at that same soft skin. Gods he wants that so badly; ever since the brunette had turned around and flashed that blindingly sweet grin in the aisle of his workplace. The guy had clearly recognized him from the way he’d blushed and gone silent, somehow even cuter then than he had been when smiling a moment before. Geralt had barely paid attention to the brand of costume blood he’d grabbed from the shelf; he was too distracted by the blue-eyed beauty behind the checkout counter.

He replies to the photo-message quickly. Maybe too quickly.

@whitehairdontcare: Yeah. I didn’t catch his name, unfortunately. Are you roommates or something?

@PrissCilla: Yeah, he’s my roomie. I’ll give you his Tik Tok handle but only if you swear on your follower count that you’re actually interested in him as a person and not just as a way to pass the time. I don’t care if you’re internet famous, he’s my best friend and I don’t want to see him hurt.

@PrissCilla: Also he has a huge celebrity crush on you already so it’s barely fair.

@whitehairdontcare: I swear that I have nothing but honest intentions. I think I fell in like at first sight at his job the other day. My name is Geralt, btw.

@PrissCilla: Oh he’s gonna love that line if you ever use it. He’s a huge sap. 

@PrissCilla: Alright, I trust you Geralt. You can find him at @buttercup-bard. 

After that message she sends a gif of RuPaul saying “And DON’T fuck it up!” He smiles a bit at that. If this is what Party City’s friends are like then he must be the coolest person on the fucking planet. 

@whitehairdontcare: Why’d he pick that name?

@PrissCilla: Ask him, fam. Later.

Geralt’s eyes flicker back up to the picture. He saves it to his camera roll without hesitation; Party City just looks so sweet. He’s so focused and intent and- and Geralt wants to know what it would be like to have that kind of intensity focused on him. He wants to mirror it back. He’s never really been the type to hit on strangers but this guy has him all kinds of fucked up.

This guy is...different. Special. Perhaps, though Geralt has no real proof at this point, this guy might even be perfect. 

---

Two days later, on his way to class, Jaskier opens Tik Tok and starts to scroll his For You Page as usual. There are a few funny dances and a few skits that make him half-smile in amusement; it wastes the time between locations effectively. He’s nearly all the way to campus when he comes across the latest video that @whitehairdontcare has posted. He bites back a squeak when he reads the caption: “POV: You’re the cute cashier from Party City and your car breaks down after our first date.”

How did he know? How did he know that the car mechanic video was Jaskier’s favorite? Really, though, this couldn’t be about Jaskier. Not even possible. Inconceivable. No way.

Except.

Except that he also had a private message waiting for him. From @whitehairdontcare. 

Holy fucking shit. 

Jaskier’s eyes roll back into his head and he collapses off the seat of the bus, unconscious.

---

Forty-five minutes and one short walk later and Jaskier has a bag of ice pressed to the sizable goose-egg on his forehead. According to the two girls who’d sprinkled water on his face to wake him up (and then accompanied him to the campus Health and Safety building behind the library) he’d dropped his phone, crumpled to the floor “like a sad puppet” and slid forward when the bus driver hit the brakes, slamming his head into the support pole in the center of the aisle. 

There would be a definite bruise and probably a raised bump for at least a week and a half according to the nurse on call. 

It wasn’t until the taller girl handed his phone back to him that Jaskier realized he’d never even read Mr. White Hair’s private message before his embarrassing little accident. With one hand still holding the ice against his injury and the other trembling against his phone screen, the anxious young man unlocked the device and opened Tik Tok once again. He tapped on the private message and focused on each individual word:

@whitehairdontcare: Hey Party City Guy, my name is Geralt. 

There’s a selfie. The influencer is flashing the peace sign, his long white hair pulled back into a messy bun, one eye closed in a frozen wink. Jaskier’s fingers barely manage to type out a shocked reply.

@buttercup-bard: Hello, Geralt. I’m Jaskier. No offense but...why are you talking to me?

@whitehairdontcare: You seemed nice? You’re cute? I like your hair? Do you need more reason cause I have more reasons.

Jaskier is utterly floored. No only did the popular Tik Tokker reply immediately but he’d replied with those answers. The college senior takes a few deep breaths to steady himself before snapping a quick selfie, ice and all. At least his smile is still charming, he hopes.

@buttercup-bard: I’m probably not quite as cute as you remember rn. Oops.

@whitehairdontcare: What happened?? Are you okay?

@buttercup-bard: It’s embarrassing. Maybe another time.

@whitehairdontcare: Maybe you could tell me on our date? I promise I’m not creepy. You were just so nice the other day even tho you were nervous or whatever.

Jaskier knows that if he’s going to hyperventilate, this is probably the best place to do it. The nurse is still less than fifty feet away and should push come to shove she can probably revive his stupid ass. Instead, though, he focuses on every modern retelling of Cinderella he’s ever seen. 

Gods, he thinks, smiling absently down at his phone screen where Mr. Whit- where Geralt is grinning up at him with that wink and that peace sign. My version is going to be so much better.

@buttercup-bard: Yeah, alright. Maybe I’ll tell you about how your Tik Tok made me pass out on a public bus...on our date. 

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

lip synch your way into my heart pt. 4

(it just keeps getting cuter and there’s nothing I can (or want) to do in order to stop it, so...)

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

---

“So you’re really invested in this guy, huh?” Yennefer asks. She’s sprawled across Geralt’s black leather couch and her wildly curly hair almost blends into the material completely. 

“Yeah.”

“What’s so great about him?”

“What’s so great about Triss?” Geralt retorts. “I like him, okay?”

“Ger-bear,” Yen groans, rolling onto her stomach and resting her chin on her hands, “Just tell me what it is about this little baby twink that has you so riled up and I’ll leave you alone about it for the next five days at least.”

“What a gracious offer,” Geralt deadpans. “So I suppose I shall accept your terms. If I tell you the reasons why I like him so much then I get five days of radio silence on the topic of Jaskier. Who is not a twink, by the way.”

“Mhm. Continue.”

“I like him because he’s sweet,” Geralt explains. Yen makes a gagging noise but the influencer continues, unperturbed by his friend’s antics, “Jaskier is unusually kind for someone who’s seen so much rapid, negative change in the world. He’s honestly curious about getting to know people, even people he doesn’t need to know. He just...cares about them. He’s also super upbeat, even on his bad days. I could use someone with optimism in my life, you know?”

“You’ve only been on two dates. How do you know all this shit?”

“Two dates was enough.”

“Fair. I only went on three with Triss before asking to make it Facebook official,” the young witch shrugs. She glances around the minimalistic apartment and frowns, “Now, where the fuck is Cirilla? She’s late.”

---

Ciri and Yen are standing behind him and ready to go when he is, so why is Geralt so gods-damned nervous? It’s just a Tik Tok. He’s made, what, a couple hundred of these already? He’s made dozens upon dozens with Ciri and Yen; he’s even played the jealous ex in a few of Yen’s skits with Triss. 

But this? Asking Jaskier to be his boyfriend so publicly? After their second date? It feels...strange. 

“Hurry up, loverboy,” Yen groans. “I want to drink.”

“Yeah,” Ciri echoes. “I didn’t carry four liters of soda all the way up here for you to chicken out.”

“I told you I already had mixers,” Geralt grumbles. He presses play on his phone and starts the Tik Tok video recorder. Ciri and Yen jump into position behind him, popping their hips to the side and moving in time with Geralt as he mouths the words along to the song. 

“Baby, it's the way you make me

Kinda get me go crazy,

Never wanna stop!

It's gotta be you! (uh huh, uh huh, yeah)”

The dance is going well. Nobody’s lost their footing yet; he’s glad he didn’t choreograph this himself. Yen memorized it from an old Backstreet Boys music video and they’d simply copied the moves. Jaskier would probably be happy; there was a lot of hip thrusting and squatting involved.

“I can't control it anymore;

I've never felt like this before.

Mmm, you really make me lose my head,

My hungry heart must be fed (uh huh, uh huh).”

Geralt quickly and gracefully steps back to join Yen and Ciri in a line for the last series of steps.

“Baby, it's the way you make me

Kinda get me go crazy,

Never wanna stop!”

He points directly into the camera and winks, “It’s gotta be you!”

---

“Oh my god, Jaskier! Get in the kitchen now!” Priscilla shrieks. He flies to her aid, sure that she’s in some sort of mortal danger, but no...she’s looking at her phone with her mouth hanging open. Jaskier skids to a stop and clasps a hand over his chest melodramatically.  

“Jeez, Prissa,” he pants in a breath, “Don’t scare me like that! I thought you were in serious distress.”

“I am in serious distress! One of the most popular content creators of our generation has just asked my best friend and roommate to be his boyfriend over Tik Tok! And it has roughly six million likes already! Have you even answered him, Jask?”

“Wh-what?!” Jaskier gasps. He reaches for Priscilla’s phone and she hands it over readily.

She’s right. @whitehairdontcare has uploaded another video and it already has six million likes and over fifteen million views. Shit. 

This time the caption reads: “POV: you’re the cute cashier from Party City and I’m asking you to be my boyfriend.”

“So?” Priscilla asks, nudging him with her elbow. “What are you going to say?”

“Yes, duh!”

“What song are they lip syncing to, anyway? Turn it up, Jask.”

Jaskier turns up the volume a little and hears The Backstreet Boys come pouring out from his friend’s speakers. “Oh my gods, he remembered!”

“What?”

“I told him that I loved this album as a kid. It was a gift from my cousin and it was way too mature for me but I loved it.”

“Gay.”

“Yeah, well, if the boyband fits,” Jaskier shrugs. He can’t stop smiling. “I can’t believe it. I have to go call him.”

“Yes! Do that!” his friend urges. Jaskier sprints back to his room, beaming brightly from ear to ear.

---

“Hey,” Jaskier grins. “So uh…”

Geralt takes his hand gently and brings it up to his mouth, kissing the back of his knuckles again. The simple, sweet gesture never fails to make Jaskier turn a pretty shade of pink; Geralt does it whenever he gets the chance. 

“So what?” the influencer asks. 

“I guess we’re boyfriends, now.”

“Yeah,” Geralt nods, stepping closer and squeezing Jaskier’s hand. The younger man squeezes back. “I guess we are.”

“So…”

“So?”

“Does that mean we can...uh-”

“Yeah,” Geralt smiles indulgently. He leans down, bringing his free hand up to cup the side of Jaskier’s face gently. He runs the pad of his thumb across the brunette’s cheekbone as he presses their lips together. It’s gentle and nervous and so achingly sweet that Jaskier actually swoons a bit. 

He loses his balance, tipping forward against Geralt’s firm chest. The influencer wraps his arms low around Jaskier’s waist and nuzzles the side of the brunette’s soft neck. “Careful, babe.”

“I like that.”

“What, babe?”

“Yeah. I like you, too. A lot,” Jaskier flashes another shy smile up at him and Geralt’s heart melts. “Kiss me again?”

“For you? Anything,” Geralt murmurs against his lips. 

And he leans back down to continue kissing his new boyfriend.

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

lip synch your way into my heart finale

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four

please drop me a comment or a tag. they mean the world even if it’s just one smiley face emoji I s2g

oh also the song is “Can’t Stand It” by nevershoutnever

---

“Are you really sure about this?” Jaskier asks, nibbling anxiously on the string of his hoodie. Geralt gently removes it from between his teeth and bumps their foreheads together. 

“Of course I’m sure. I’m so excited to show you off to the world. I can’t believe that you’re letting me claim you as mine so publicly.”

“Well,” Jaskier blushes. Geralt takes a moment to really revel in the flush of his cheeks, the way his smile turns from flirtatious to shy; he’s so head-over-heels it’s sickening. “I have to admit, I kinda like it.”

“What do you like?” Geralt asks. Jaskier fiddles with the hoodie string again but doesn’t put it back in his mouth. That’s a good sign.

“I like that you want me,” the younger man clarifies. He can’t make eye contact with his boyfriend and his cheeks are turning an even darker shade of puce. “I like that you...that you’re openly saying you’re mine. And that I’m yours. I like...being with you.”

“Usually I’m the one who has trouble getting my words out,” Geralt teases gently, lightening the mood. Jaskier smiles gratefully up at the influencer and nods. 

“Go ahead and post it, then.”

“Here we go! Off to Neverland,” Geralt says, suddenly wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist to spin him in a wide circle. The brunette giggles so adorably and so furiously that Geralt does it again before setting him down. He taps a button on his phone screen and smiles triumphantly. “There. Now all of China knows we’re queer.”

Jaskier snorts and rolls his eyes, laughing anyway. “Wow, that was bad.”

“I’m hip with the kids,” Geralt shrugs. His phone chimes and he glances down. The video has only been up for maybe a minute. Maybe two.

He unlocks the screen and his honey-gold eyes go wide with shock. “Hey babe,” he mutters, “All of China really does know.”

“I told you my idea would be great for views.”

“I’m never doubting you again. I’m hiring you as my manager. Sleeping with the management is legal, right?”

Jaskier laughs again and lets Geralt smother him with kisses. His face, his neck; finally his boyfriend pulls him up to meet his lips, pressing their mouths together for as long as they can hold their breath. “Love you, boo.”

“Hmm.”

---

Jaskier watches the Tik Tok again, later, when he’s sitting on Geralt’s couch, waiting for his boyfriend to get done showering. It was his idea and the result was perfect. The sweetest way to tell the world they were officially and happily a couple.

The caption read: “My boyfriend is so talented and cute!” 

The video showed Jaskier and Geralt sitting on some stone steps, with the brunette tucked safely against one of his boyfriend’s steady legs. He was reclining comfortably with his head against Geralt’s knee, playing the ukulele and singing one of his old middle school favorites:

“You, I saw you across the room And I knew that this was gonna Blossom into something beautiful. You're beautiful.

“Baby, I love you, I never want to let you go. The more I think about, The more I want to let you know That everything you do, Is super duper cute And I can't stand it!”

At the end of the song, Geralt leans down to kiss Jaskier quickly on the cheek and Jaskier smiles on instinct. 

It was almost too sweet in some regards. But the comments were overwhelmingly supportive and positive. Geralt seemed to have a mostly-queer fanbase anyway since he shared so many skits with Yen (a noted bisexual with a hot redheaded lesbian girlfriend) and Ciri (whose gay rights rants were famously funny and informative). The outpouring of “so cute”s and “Omg so happy for you”s was amazing.

A few were rude or stupid, but Jaskier found it easy enough to blow them off. He had Geralt, after all. He was the luckiest Party City cashier in the entire world.

His boyfriend came out of the bathroom just as Jaskier set his phone on the coffee table. “Oh hey, hot stuff. Ready for movie night?”

“Yeah,” Geralt grinned. He leaned down to peck the brunette gently on the lips. “Rom Com or Horror?”

“Your turn to pick.”

“Horror, then. Let’s do something old and silly.”

“How about Creature From the Black Lagoon?” 

“Perfect!”

Geralt settled onto the couch next to Jaskier and pulled his favorite fleece blanket over both of their legs. He wrapped his arm around the younger man’s shoulders and pulled him close, nuzzling against his neck. “I love you, boo.”

“I love you too, babe.”

“Good. I never want to let you go.”

(dedicated to my main ho and braincell bae @thecomfortofoldstorries)

[jaskier-cult]

lip synch your way into my heart pt. 2

(Part One Here)

@PrissCilla: Is this the guy that your Party City video was about?

The unfamiliar user has attached a picture to their message and Geralt’s eyes widen in happy surprise when he realizes that it is, in fact, Party City Guy. The picture of Party City Guy is a ridiculously adorable candid; he’s reclining in an oversized rainbow beanbag chair, a large textbook sitting on his lap and his lip nestled sweetly between his teeth. 

Geralt wants to know what it feels like to nip at that same soft skin. Gods he wants that so badly; ever since the brunette had turned around and flashed that blindingly sweet grin in the aisle of his workplace. The guy had clearly recognized him from the way he’d blushed and gone silent, somehow even cuter then than he had been when smiling a moment before. Geralt had barely paid attention to the brand of costume blood he’d grabbed from the shelf; he was too distracted by the blue-eyed beauty behind the checkout counter.

He replies to the photo-message quickly. Maybe too quickly.

Keep reading

[jaskier-cult]

don't usually like modern AUs, but THIS??? makes my heart absolutely melt!! 💜💜

lip sync your way into my heart

( @thecomfortofoldstorries and I got into a fun head-cannon debate last night about Tik Tok POVs and this is what happened)

— Jaskier has never really been in the loop when it comes to social media. He was behind the curve when he made his Tumblr and he was two years late to sign up for Twitter. It’s no surprise that he finally downloads Tik Tok and makes an account several months after it’s become a viral platform.

That also means all the good usernames are taken; Jaskier types in @buttercup-bard, sees that it’s available, and calls it a day. This isn’t an app he’s going to care about. It’s just to waste time during his forty minute commute to and from campus. 

Alas, he has ADHD…and this shit is addictive.

Especially, he hates to admit, the thirst-trap hotties who do weird, obscure, edgy POV videos. Jaskier knows they’re aimed primarily towards teen and young adult women but he’s a red-blooded Redanian gay. He’s horny. He can watch a few POV Tik Toks on the bus and thirst after pretty boys with big muscles…as a treat.

Keep reading

[jaskier-cult]

okay so i am absolutely dying over here from how fucking cute this whole au is!!!

lip synch your way into my heart pt. 4

(it just keeps getting cuter and there’s nothing I can (or want) to do in order to stop it, so…)

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

—

“So you’re really invested in this guy, huh?” Yennefer asks. She’s sprawled across Geralt’s black leather couch and her wildly curly hair almost blends into the material completely. 

“Yeah.”

“What’s so great about him?”

“What’s so great about Triss?” Geralt retorts. “I like him, okay?”

“Ger-bear,” Yen groans, rolling onto her stomach and resting her chin on her hands, “Just tell me what it is about this little baby twink that has you so riled up and I’ll leave you alone about it for the next five days at least.”

“What a gracious offer,” Geralt deadpans. “So I suppose I shall accept your terms. If I tell you the reasons why I like him so much then I get five days of radio silence on the topic of Jaskier. Who is not a twink, by the way.”

“Mhm. Continue.”

Keep reading