#as having a figure more beautiful than Yennefer's

[widevibratobitch]

Polish Witcher fans are just evil fucking people and i hate them so much <3

[renren-006]

Hi there! I’m an angst addict so I was thinking like a story about the sorcerer ball that Geralt and Yennefer attend in season 3 but with the Reader who is like dating Geralt has to stay behind with Jaskier and Ciri has some jealousy because of Geralt and Yen’s history and starts thinking that our white wolf would prefer her instead….if that makes sense 😭

Preference? | Geralt x Fem Reader

word count: 909

a/n: omg yesss!! i had fun writing this so enjoyyyyy!!

The ball was that evening, and after the long boat ride and fight you, Geralt, and Ciri had to go through, you were looking forward to it. What you didn't expect was Geralt sidelining you with Jaskir and Ciri. You stood there dumbfounded and Yennifer and Geralt explained that it would make more sense to have more people watch Ciri. You watched him leave that night in an elegant outfit and a single kiss before he went towards the castle.

“He loves you, you know that right Y/N” Jaskir said to you. 

“How Jask. Look at Yennefer. I'll never look like her, and I'll never be as powerful…” you told him. You and Jaskir were best friends before Geralt even entered the picture. He glanced over at you, seeing you go through heartbreak after heartbreak. This time, both of you wanted this to be the last. He hugged you as Geralt disappeared beyond sight. 

Ciri, however, didn't notice anything. Absorbed in her own little world for a bit, or at least for most of the night, she didn't let on that she had been listening to you. She saw the way Yennifer was eying Geralt. It wasn't until a few card games that she talked about it. 

“I prefer you over Yennefer.” She told you. Jaskir looked at you, seeing the smile and shock on your face. “I don't like that he didn't ask you to go.”

“I…I don't either, Ciri” you told the young girl. 

“He loves you. I think he's just being stupid,” Ciri told you, comforting you. The young girl had taken a strong liking to you in the years you had been with and known her. She thought of you like a mother, a guardian, someone she knew would lay down her life to protect her.  You managed to find her before Geralt and keep her safe while helping her find your lover and her guardian. Once you did, it felt like a family reunion. You remember meeting Yen with them and discovering her betrayal. Seeing her now and knowing she was trying to be genuine, you had no reason to worry, yet you did.  The rest of the night was a mix of worry and jealousy. 

You worried he would realize how much better the woman before him that night was than you. How powerful she was and how it barely compared to you. How could she teach Ciri far better than you could about magic, even though Ciri had mastered most, if not all, of what you had taught her so far. You just wanted Geralt to love you for you, and you felt as thought you might always be compared to her. 

When morning came, and Geralt walked through the door with Yennifer, you noticed he wore a different outfit. You glanced at Yennifer, who was doing her best not to look over at you. Her face was flush, and her eyes were cast down away from you. Your worries were confirmed. 

“I knew it,” you said. Geralt's eyes flashed with worry, worry that you had figured it out. You stormed out the back door, and Geralt followed after. 

“Y/N! Y/N/N!” he yelled. Your flowy flower dress flowed in the wind as you continued storming off towards the woods, wishing to be with the trees. Soon after, you fell to the ground in the middle of a clearing, hearing and feeling the forest energy.

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked, kneeling next to you.

“You slept with Yennifer didn't you?” you asked, tears in your eyes. “You know I'm nothing compared to her. How could I ever expect to be better than her? You'll always want her…”

“Y/N that's not true” Geralt said, his husky voice causing you to shiver away. 

“Yes it is” you said, power serging from you, rumbling the woods. “I am nothing compared to Geralt, I have less power, less beauty...”

“Y/N! I told her I wanted to marry you "Geralt said, holding your face in his hands. 

“What?” you said. Suddenly everything in you went quiet, including the world around you.

“I told her I wanted to spend my life with you from now on. That she meant nothing to me anymore.” Geralt's words cut through you. Yennifer's downward look wasn't because she was sorry she slept with him, but because she was sorry she tried to and got rejected. You realize that Geralt's clothes were probably because he was tired from the long night of fighting that Yen lent him clothes, not because he wanted to stay.

“You want to marry me?” you asked him, tears in your eyes

“Yes,” he said firmly. 

“I'm sorry…I was…” you stumbled over words. 

“It's okay. Darling i understand” He said kissing your tears away, “I understand why you got there. Why you think I loved her? I don't”

“I know that now” you said slightly laughing, “I love you”

“I know, darling,” he said. He helped you stand and walk back towards that little cottage with your family inside. Yennifer came over and apologized profusely. She wanted nothing more than to be friends and to set up the wedding. She was happy he found someone like you and that she wouldn't ever get in the way. You were happy your worries were not true and that Geralt was the man for you forever.

[thelostgirl21]

Okay, but now I kinda want to see a Radskier version of this...

Because I can 100% imagine Jaskier being that adorable 7 year-old child that some evil noble would be jealous of and want to get rid of (because he's so damn charming and has such a beautiful, melodious voice, and natural way with words already, that it's obvious that the kid is going to be a menace that will have people falling for him left and right when he grows up!).

And so, he gets adopted by a bunch of outcasts (maybe Yarpen Zigrin and his men?) that are constantly trying to tell him to stay away from strangers, and stop putting random things into his mouth!

But he's a 7 year-old version of Jaskier, i.e. a puppy dog of a child with even less impulse control and inhibition than the adult version of him has! So, of course he just gets instantly fascinated with each new person he meets, and spontaneously goes to hug their legs, tell them he thinks they look pretty, ask them where they're from, want them to tell him stories, and will gladly eat anything they offer him that remotely looks edible!

Hell! He'll eat stuff lying around that don't even look edible! So, if it looks like an apple? Yeah. Poor child never stood a chance. The evil noble character wouldn't even have needed to try to interact with him or trick him. He'd just need to let a poisoned apple randomly lie on the forest floor close to the dwarves' camp, and you can be sure it would wind up in Jaskier's mouth, somehow!

And then, there's young 8 year-old Prince Radovid, that has the annoying habit of giving his guards the slip to go running off on his own into the woods; but somehow never gets lost - even when he goes missing for a few days - nor attacked by any of the forest's creatures, because he's that kind of prince!

You know, the kind of prince that can just summon squirrels through his bedroom's window to come clean up his room for him!

So obviously, he'd find the glass coffin with the "dead" but perfectly preserved boy inside, and immediately think "he's really pretty, and I think I should keep him with me!"

So, he finds this Witcher passing by on his horse Roach, tells him he's found a pretty boy trapped in a glass box that he'd like to bring back home, and the Witcher looks like he'd be strong enough to do it.

Intrigued (and perhaps just a bit concerned over the kid's sanity), the Witcher thus goes to investigate and finds out that young Radovid was telling the truth! He decides that he should bring the boy in the glass coffin to a powerful sorceress to try to figure out what happened to him, and if, perhaps, something could be done to wake him up.

He tries to convince the young Prince Radovid that he should go back home before his parents start to worry, but the kid is having none of it! He wants to stay with the pretty boy and is afraid that the Witcher will decide to just keep him, and that he'll never get to see him again.

Plus, he keeps insisting that no one will miss him, or even notice he's gone for a few days, at least! Because all that matters to his parents is his older brother - who's going to be king one day - and no one really pays attention to him. It's not the first time he's run off like that! Last time it took them about a week before they sent more guards to fetch him.

So now, Geralt is travelling towards Yennefer de Vengerberg's latest location by foot, with an 8 year-old Redanian Prince sitting on his horse and a glass coffin with some random child (that looks to be roughly the same age as the prince) trapped in some kind of death-like stasis of unknown magical origin inside of it hoisted on his shoulder...

At some point, Roach gets startled, and Geralt ends up tripping and almost dropping the glass box while attempting to make sure his horse doesn't accidentally throws Radovid off her back.

Next thing he knows, the "dead kid" is coughing out a large piece of poisoned apple, is fully awake, tries to hug him, wants to know if white is his real hair color, and if he'd let him wash and braid them later? No? Spoilsports.

And wow! How sharp are those swords? And why are there two of them? Oh! And does the wolf on his medallion mean anything? Also, he's hungry and wonders if Geralt has some food hidden somewhere (while actively rummaging through his bags)...

The moment he triumphantly pulls out a vial, thinking it's some juice to drink, the Witcher panics and knocks it out of his hands, immediately being called "rude" by a pouting and put off fucking 7 year-old kid!

But 3 seconds later, he totally forgets about being upset and now wants to know all about what Witcher potions are, and Witchers. Can he be one? Okay, maybe being a Witcher is not so much fun, then... But Yarpen keep saying he makes way too much noise to be a mercenary, too! So he'll have to figure something out and "be something" one day, right?

Apparently, the kid's full name and title is "Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove", but it's too long, sounds way too fucking pretentious (it's unclear if the dwarves that adopted him taught him to curse, or if it's a habit that the child had picked up before), and so he prefers to go by Jaskier.

Oh, and he really loves to sing! Would Geralt want to hear him sing?

When the sound of another voice says that they'd love to, Jaskier nearly jumps out of his skin going "What the fuck are you doing here?" at the other child, prompting a very confused and wide eyed "b-but I've been sitting here the whole time!" from the much quieter, and much more reserved prince.

The very second little Jaskier has a chance to take a good look at the young Radovid, however, he immediately goes from startled to utterly fascinated, and now he's trying to awkwardly climb on top of Roach until the prince casually asks Geralt's fucking horse if she would be so kind to help him, and wouldn't you know it! Roach just grabs the kid by the back of his shirt, lifts him up, and sits him down right behind the prince while Geralt is looking at the interaction totally dumbfounded.

At least, now all of Jaskier's questions are directed at the prince that apparently couldn't be happier to answer them, and to be the center of the pretty boy's attention.

Among other things, Jaskier wonders if the big, buff, scary-looking white haired Witcher person is always so silent and grumpy, asks if he can run his fingers through the young prince hair, and braid them - then, when he receives confirmation, starts commenting on how soft his hair is, and wondering what their actual color might be (it's a really pretty kinda reddish-blonde, that seemingly keeps changing color with the way the sun's ray reflects in them... Does Radovid has magical hair? They smell really good, too!)...

Meanwhile, Geralt is wondering whatever the fuck he did to Destiny to deserve to be carrying two noble kids around on his horse - including one that won't shut up - even when he's got his nose buried deep into the other child's hair...

Oh! And he's singing now! Wonderful!

He's genuinely starting to wonder if he should be asking Yennefer to check up on him and make sure that he won't be suffering from any long term complications from the spell he was put under...

Or if he should be asking her if there's any safe way to put him back into that box and make sure he stays there!

That is, if the damn child doesn't wind up back in a coffin all on his own!

For some reason, that fucking kid keeps trying to make friends with every single monster they meet in their travel... And, the moment the fangs inevitably come out, the prince will apparently step in, in an attempt to talk the monster down and protect his companion!

Geralt is pretty sure that having to look after these two together while trying to keep them both alive is going to result in him starting to age at a normal human rate!

He has to admit, though, that Jaskier boy has a very decent singing voice - especially coming from one so young... And he's got quite a few catchy tunes, too...

Then, there's Prince Radovid... From what little Geralt has been able to gather from him, he's starting to suspect that he might have been abused back at the castle, or at the very least the victim of parental neglect. He seems way too mature and self-reliant for his age, and craves Jaskier's attention like someone that's gone invisible for far too long...

Halfway through their trip, the boys apparently decide that the two of them are going to get married when they get older, and live together in a cabin in the woods, close to the coast.

Of course, he's not enough of an asshole to tell them that he's sure the King of Redania is going to be delighted to hear about his youngest son's plans for his future, and would totally agree to that.

Turns out he wouldn't have needed to since, when they finally reach Yennefer de Vengerberg, the sorceress gives the "little sing-songy twit" a clear bill of health, and somehow decides that she wants to adopt both of the kids (she's apparently been wanting to become a mother for quite some time now, and sees this as the perfect opportunity)!

The Prince, of course, is delighted at the idea! As long as he gets to stay with the "pretty boy", apparently, he'd be happy! Plus, the fact that Yennefer seems like a mother that would actually want him is also a huge plus in favor of that plan.

And Jaskier's not agains it, but insists for them to find Yarpen first, to let him know he's alive, have them meet his "dwarf dad", and allow them to figure it all out together.

Somewhere along the way, Geralt and Yennefer fall in love, and Jaskier decides he now has a Witcher dad and a Witch mom, too...

He refuses to remotely consider Radovid as a brother, though, regardless of them now having the same parental figures.

Apparently, marrying him when they're all grown up would be really weird then (Jaskier is apparently really good at keeping track of his priorities, and those are very much not straight!) - and the prince fully agrees on that.

Even if Geralt mistakenly believes that they will probably have the opportunity to change their minds at least ten times about getting married before they actually get to that point.

Eventually, they do reunite with Yarpen and his company, that are absolutely delighted and beyond relieved to discover that their beloved tiny big fucking mouth is now awake, and very much alive!

Apparently, they met with some ancient elven lady that told them of some weird prophecy about the child, and that they needed to build some glass coffin and leave him there in the middle of the woods for some other kid to find if they wanted him to survive...

Really weird fucking stuff, but they'd figured that it was worth a shot, at least, and a much better plan than letting Jaskier be permanently dead.

And then, Yarpen and his company, Geralt, Yennefer, and the whole Witcher Keep, apparently, wind up raising two random noble kids, protecting them from some evil character that wants Jaskier dead out of jealousy (still haven't decided who that would be... Maybe, in that world, Valdo Marx would be older, and part of the nobility... Actually, it would be funny if no one actually knew who kept trying to murder Jaskier, and that was something they'd only discover once he's all grown up and has finally become everything that the evil character ever feared Jaskier would become) that keeps occasionally trying to trick him to his death (it's a recurring occurrence... Every now and then, Jaskier nearly dies or dies, they find a way to save or revive him... the usual!).

As for Radovid, every once in a while, Redania sends out some troops in an attempt to retrieve him... But, since every time they try to send their cavalry out the horses won't budge, whales keep sinking their ships, and their infantry get chased around by bears, squirrels, skunks, and fucking pigeons, each new attempt becomes more and more halfhearted.

Jaskier eventually becomes the bard he was always meant to be... Perhaps Radovid eventually retakes his Kingdom...

To everyone's utter lack of surprise, they do very much get married...

Pretty sure that, at some point, one of the attempts on Jaskier's life involved something like "true love's kiss" to break the spell, and Radovid totally aced it!

Well, depending on who you ask, because Geralt would argue that "true love's kiss" doesn't usually require as much tongue and groping. And Jaskier would very much disagree, arguing that a decent amount of tongue action is 100% crucial to the kiss' chance of success!

Yennefer would likely settle the argument by saying that Jaskier's probably right, given he's way too much of a diva to come back to life for someone that's unwilling to put in a little extra effort into the kiss to show that they really mean it.

Oh, and when the boys were in their late twenties, and announced that they would be attending Queen Calanthe's banquet together because Jaskier had been invited to perform, Yennefer told Geralt to go with them for protection, in case someone would attempt to take the opportunity to murder Jaskier - again.

And Geralt came back home that night announcing to her that he'd just accidentally adopted yet another princess - with super powerful Elder blood this time - and that they would probably need to move closer to Cintra for a few years, so Yennefer would be able to help train her.

[aramblingjay]

The paint that was left in the pot Geraskier, Geralt & Ciri, Modern AU (3K)

“Dad, do you think you could paint my nails?” Ciri asks him one afternoon, and Geralt is not too proud to say that he panics. Or: Ciri gets her nails painted, but she’s not the only one.

ao3

-

“Dad, do you think you could paint my nails?” Ciri asks him one afternoon, and Geralt is not too proud to say that he panics.

“What do you mean?” he asks in lieu of having to answer that. He hasn’t the faintest clue how to do nail polish; it most certainly was not covered in the Vesemir school of parenting. The only person he’s seen wear any is Yennefer, and he’s mostly convinced she just stares at her nails hard enough until they morph into the exact shape and color she wants.

“Well, the spring formal is next week, and all my friends are going to the spa today to get their nails done, but I know we can’t,” Ciri explains, and something heavy sinks in Geralt’s stomach. “And normally I’d ask mom, but since she’s away, I thought maybe you could do it.” She frowns, then, and her voice turns small. “It’s okay if not, you don’t have to or anything. Actually, it’s not even a big deal, nude nails are pretty in right now—”

That look on Ciri’s face, lost and wounded, is the surest way to spring him into action, and Geralt finds himself saying, “Of course I’ll do it,” before he can think twice about what he’s committing to.

Ciri should be able to go to the spa with her friends. She shouldn’t have to worry that it’ll cost money they don’t have to spare right now, or that there’s no one to drive her there because the car is still in the shop—but that isn’t the life they live, and Ciri has always been more perceptive than anyone her age should be.

The least Geralt can do is try to give her this one thing.

“Don’t you worry, my little lion. I have it covered,” he promises, feeling pretty good about it when she gives him a wide, brilliant smile and chatters for the next ten minutes about the exact shade of purple-blue that’ll match her dress.

With Ciri sufficiently occupied waxing lyrical about colors, Geralt pulls out his phone to sneakily search up how to paint nails for beginners. Of course, that’s when Ciri decides that she’s done enough talking and wants to put her words into action, taking him by hand and all but dragging him up the stairs to, presumably, where the nail polish awaits.

It turns out the exact shade of purple-blue she wants is not among the five-pack of basic nail polish Eskel bought Ciri for her birthday last year. Geralt eyes the colorful little jars with trepidation, surer than ever that he has no idea what he’s getting into. How does one transfer the paint from there to—he glances at Ciri’s hands, nearly squinting to see her tiny little fingernails, and cannot fathom how this can possibly work without some sort of magic.

Then Ciri picks out the bright lavender bottle and holds it out to him with a look of such hope in her eyes that the wait I don’t know about this on the tip of his tongue dies right there. He has survived boot camps the likes of which would make the military blanch, has seen any number of horrors in this world, has managed to keep all his limbs despite regularly spending time with the most terrifying person the world has ever produced (Yennefer)—he will not be defeated by one little jar of paint and ten (tiny, unbelievably tiny, were they always that tiny?) bits of keratin.

He takes the bottle from her hand, holding it up to the light. It’s actually a beautiful color, bright and lively like his little lion. If he can just figure out how to get it on her hand, he knows without a doubt that she’ll look incredible. As she deserves, for her spring formal dance.

(At least, he thinks it’s a dance. Jaskier told him it was a dance, and Jaskier tends to know about this type of thing)

“C’mon then, little lion.” He assumes this is the type of thing one does in the bathroom to avoid making a mess. “Let’s go paint your nails.”

Ciri follows behind him with a clear skip in her step, and he wonders whether she thinks he’s done this before, assumes he’ll just know how once he starts, or truly hasn’t thought that far ahead. In any case, she’s far too cheerful for someone about to have bright purple splotches all over her skin.

(Is that how nail polish is applied? You just…pour it over the skin and wipe off whatever isn’t on the nail bed? It’s the only technique that comes to his mind, although something about that doesn’t seem right. And he doesn’t want this purple substance and the chemicals it might contain to be all over Ciri’s skin, in any case)

Ciri sits on the edge of the bathtub and holds out a hand, peering at him with absolute trust in her eyes. He feels more unworthy of it in this moment than perhaps any before, but gives her the best smile he can conjure and studies the little bottle of purple like it holds the key to life itself. Right now, it all but does.

Well, first step first. Geralt twists the cap off the bottle, nose wrinkling immediately at the sharp, pungent smell. He hopes it doesn’t smell like that on the nail, too, or he might have to subtly avoid Ciri for the next several days.

Some of the mystery is revealed when he realizes the cap isn’t just a cap, but in fact contains a tiny brush on the end of it. Tiny—he sneaks another glance at Ciri’s nails, held out ready and waiting for him. Tiny enough to be fingernail-sized, in fact.

Oh, dear. He’s supposed to paint this, with that, on those?

“What’s wrong? Do you not want to anymore?” Ciri asks. She’s always been able to read him a little too well.

Geralt looks into her big, guileless eyes and sighs. You can always be honest with me, he tells her about once a week, and what kind of father would he be if he didn’t follow his own rules?

“There’s nothing I’d love more, I promise,” he says, because doing things for Ciri is what he does, and it’s the most important job he will ever have. “But to tell you the truth, I have no idea what to do.”

And that is how he stands in the bathroom doorway fifteen minutes later, watching Jaskier paint his daughter’s nails like he’s been doing this his whole life.

(Maybe he has? Geralt files that question away for later)

“Do you want any patterns on this, Ciri?” Jaskier asks her, sounding for all the world like he can make anything she wants happen. Looking at how neat and even he’s painted the purple, Geralt doesn’t even doubt it.

“Well—” Ciri hesitates, shooting him a guilty look, and Geralt understands.

“I’ll be outside,” he rumbles, wondering what kind of design she’d want to keep secret from him, but unable to deny her the privacy all the same.

He can’t deny her much of anything, really. She’s going to be a lot more dangerous once she realizes just how true that is, he’s sure of it.

They’re done in just a couple of minutes. He hears the squeak of the bathroom door open, then Jaskier telling Ciri to sit in bed and not move her hands for at least the next thirty minutes (“Yes, alright, I’ll put some music on so you don’t get bored. But don’t you even think about touching your phone, you hear me?”), the light patter of feet as Ciri heads to her bedroom, and then the steady beat that Geralt recognizes as the first song of Ciri’s current favorite album.

The volume is set low enough that all he can has to hear through the door is the low pulse of the beat, not the grating high-pitched whine of the melody, and Geralt is reminded once again of just how lucky he is to have Jaskier.

Jaskier, who can paint nails like a beautician and talks to Ciri like she’s his own and knows Geralt better than anyone ever has.

(Geralt knows, has known for quite some time now, that he will marry this man. The question is only when, and how)

Jaskier comes into the bedroom with his lips curled in a self-satisfied smile. “Nails are done. You’re going to love the design she picked out, just you wait.”

Geralt is sure that he will, if and when she decides to show him.

“She’s going to show you, don’t worry,” Jaskier says, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. One of these days, Geralt is going to figure out how Jaskier seems to read his mind about these things. “Just wants to wait until it’s all dry and done.”

“Thank you,” Geralt says, taking Jaskier’s hand and staring at the bitten-down nail beds. Jaskier has beautiful, musician’s hands, strong but nimble, clearly as adept with a brush as with a lute. He’s never seen Jaskier’s nails painted before.

“Oh yeah, coming over to my boyfriend’s house and spending time with his daughter was a real hardship.” But Jaskier squeezes his hand in acknowledgment, and Geralt knows he understands. Ciri is the most important thing in his life, and what’s important to her is important to him. Even something as seemingly insignificant as nail polish.

“I didn’t know you could paint nails,” Geralt says, because otherwise he might ask Jaskier to marry him right here and now, and he deserves a better proposal than that.

“Oh, yeah, I used to do it all the time. Stopped in uni once I really got serious about the lute—kept chipping my polish and getting upset about it. Eventually I realized I’d be saving myself a lot of unnecessary stress if I just didn’t paint them in the first place.” There’s something wistful in his voice, though, that tells Geralt maybe Jaskier misses it more than he lets on. Sure enough, he continues, “I’m glad you asked me. It was nice, to paint somebody’s nails again.”

He sounds so happy about it, this one tiny little thing, and Geralt thinks, if one small bottle of paint can bring both his daughter and his boyfriend so much joy, maybe—

“You want to do mine, too?” he asks before he’s really even thought the words through in his head.

Jaskier’s grin is blinding. “Oh my god, yes! Do you even know how incredible you would look with nail polish? I would be honored to do your nails, darling. Come, come, I’m sure one of Ciri’s colors would look amazing on you. Come on.”

Not dissimilar to Ciri, Jaskier pulls him by the hand back to the bathroom with a skip in his step, chatting the whole way. Geralt doesn’t pay attention to the actual words, knows it’s mostly filler anyway, but lets the tone and cadence and familiar melody of Jaskier’s voice wash over him. He should ask Jaskier to move in with him, he thinks suddenly—there’s no other sound in the world he wants to hear after a long day at work, except maybe Ciri’s laugh.

“What do you want, Geralt?” Jaskier asks, pushing him to sit on the tub’s edge just as Ciri did. “Bright pink, perhaps?” Jaskier holds up what is indeed a bright pink nail polish bottle, and Geralt immediately shakes his head. Jaskier huffs, though he obviously expected that answer by the way his grin only grows wider.

“Lime green?” Jaskier’s whole face is alight with teasing mirth.

Geralt rolls his eyes. If he remembers correctly, there was some sort of blue among the colors, and they’re both aware that’s what he’s going for.

Jaskier picks up the bottle of white polish and puts it to the side immediately, not even having to ask. There’s a clear one that he sets aside as well. Then he taps his finger twice on the only remaining bottle, a bright cobalt blue.

“Blue, then?” Jaskier’s tone says it’s more a rhetorical question than a genuine one, so Geralt stays quiet and watches Jaskier prepare.

He shakes the bottle up and down several times before twisting it open, just as he did with Ciri’s purple, then dabs a drop onto his left thumb, right beside the large purple splotch from testing Ciri’s color earlier.

Something about it warms Geralt’s heart in a way he can’t explain.

“Color okay?” Jaskier asks, holding out his thumb for inspection.

Geralt runs a finger down the side of Jaskier’s proffered thumb, careful not to get too close to the polish, and nods. It looks good on him. Really, really good.

Jaskier takes one of his hands. “Ready?”

Geralt hums, unable to speak.

With practiced ease, Jaskier dips the brush in the bottle, dabs away the excess paint on the rim, and brings it toward his hand.

Geralt’s throat tightens, and the ghost of a once-familiar panic wells up in his chest. The idea was a good one in theory, a great one, even, on Jaskier, but on him it’s—

He draws his hand back before he can stop himself.

It’s—there’s—he can’t—

He hopes desperately this is one of those times when Jaskier can just read his mind.

“Do you want me to start with your toes instead?” Jaskier asks softly.

Geralt lets out a shaky breath, unable to meet Jaskier’s eyes. He should be better than this. What must Jaskier think, Jaskier who has never shied away from anything he wants, never thought for one moment to be anything other than himself, who lives and loves with his whole heart and paints his thumb without a second thought just to make sure the color is—

“Darling, come back to me,” Jaskier says, still in that soft voice. Geralt blinks, tells his brain to shut up, and looks at Jaskier. “There you are.” Every bit of teasing amusement is gone from Jaskier’s face, leaving behind nothing but kind, achingly kind sincerity. “I can start with your toes, if you want. Or we don’t have to do this at all. It was just a silly idea, there’s no pressure here. Nail polish isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay.”

There’s no judgment in Jaskier’s tone, in his expression, and Geralt knows that if he shakes his head now then they can be cuddling on the bed with this whole moment behind them in under a minute. Jaskier won’t bring it up again unless he does first, and it’ll be something they can laugh about together some day in be future.

But. He looks at Jaskier’s thumb again, the two purple and blue spots, and wants.

“Toes,” he says firmly.

Jaskier smiles, tiny and proud. “Alright then. Here, put your foot in my lap, that’ll be easier.”

There’s something strangely intimate about the whole thing, as Jaskier dips the brush back in the bottle, again dabs away the excess on the rim, and paints a stripe right down the center of Geralt’s left big toe. And then again, and again. He watches Jaskier’s hands instead of the color blooming on his toes—it’s easier to keep himself calm that way, to remember that this is something he’s allowed to want and allowed to have, that no matter whether it looks good or hideously out of place amidst his pale skin and monochromatic style, no one will mock him for it.

Besides, looking at Jaskier isn’t exactly a hardship. He’s clearly good at this, his fingers deft and sure, never spilling even a drop onto Geralt’s skin. His tongue pokes out adorably between his teeth as he works, too, the way it usually only does when he’s several stanzas deep into a new composition, and Geralt finds it incredibly endearing that Jaskier is taking this as seriously as he does his songwriting.

“All done,” Jaskier says sooner than he expects, moving Geralt’s feet from his lap to rest on the tiled floor.

Geralt looks down, finally, and his heart skips a beat. He can’t put a name to what he feels, looking at the little pops of color and realizing it’s him, those are his toes, delicately painted like he’s something precious. Something beautiful.

“You like?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt can only nod, overwhelmed.

He likes. He really, really likes.

“I’m glad,” Jaskier says, and it’s gentle. He understands, Geralt is sure. Probably understands better than Geralt does, but as always, he’ll wait patiently for when Geralt catches up. “Alright, let me put on the top coat then.”

Geralt hasn’t the slightest idea what a top coat is or does, but watches Jaskier paint over the color with the bottle of clear polish and assumes it’s important.

“Fingers too?” Jaskier asks him when that’s done. It’s patient and level, noncommittal in a way that says as clearly as if he’d used the words, only if you want.

There’s a part of Geralt, one that’s only grown larger in the last twenty minutes, that wants to say yes, but he shakes his head. He isn’t ready for that yet, not quite.

“Thank you,” he says as Jaskier accepts that with a murmured okay and starts to put everything away. He can’t stop staring at his toes, flexing them a little to see the way the color catches the light. It’s—yeah. There’s a wetness building behind his eyes that he doesn’t understand, and something swirling in his stomach that he isn’t ready to name, but he knows that as always it’s Jaskier who brought him to this moment, led him to water like a horse and very gently suggested he take a drink.

“Of course, darling.”

It settles over him differently, today, the darling that’s been Jaskier’s favorite endearment for him ever since the beginning.

Geralt stands from the tub, walks the three steps over to the full-length mirror hanging on the wall by the sink, and lets himself look.

He’s the same and he’s different.

“Jask—” he stops. Even though he knows what Jaskier will say, asking takes a different kind of strength.

Jaskier lets the silence hang for a few seconds, but when it becomes clear that Geralt won’t find the words himself, he drapes himself over Geralt’s back, arms settling over his chest, and meets Geralt’s eyes in the mirror.

“Beautiful,” he says with a kiss to the shell of Geralt’s ear. “My handsome, beautiful man.”

Geralt looks at his blue-painted toes, and smiles.

[glwstic]

Rec List 8: The Witcher

-  Just a song of safety by LeWanderinGaal

'Some said the Sandpiper was so amazing he wasn't even a person, just a song of safety that carried on the wind. Said he could enchant guards with just a hum of tine. I've heard some say he's an elf mage in disguise, strong as a dragon and beautiful as Francesca. When we met him, sure he wasn't any of those things, but his songs were good and I can't but thank him for saving me and mother' Elven child's diary - Cintra 1264

or

Jaskier's face will forever be a memory of freedom for some, Sandpiper the name of the saivour of elves. And I wanted to explore how Jaskier's deeds deserve some more recognition and how him arguing with the deck guard seemed...wrong, especially if Jaskier had been helping elves for a while by the moment we see him. If other favourite concepts and headcanons for him made their way into this well...

Oneshot,  11,751 words

-  as every step I choose to take by restmyheadatnightcontent

The fire follows him.

He cannot seem to escape it - in moments of quiet he can still feel his fingers burning, with every mouthful of food that he eats, all he tastes is the horrid mixture of blood and smoke, and it takes everything he has to swallow it down and not empty his stomach, and he is constantly looking over his shoulder, catching glimpses for that lingering shadow, waiting for the moment when that black figure and that singular flame catch him again.

Most days, he has a handle on it.

Or at least, he does his best to convince everyone that he has a handle on it.

Oneshot, 1,492 words

- reconstruction by SparrowFlight246

Jaskier's burned hand gets infected in the aftermath of everything.

It complicates things, a bit.

Oneshot,  6,363 words

-  (I won’t) Scream Into the Night by Chaos_Breeds

Ciri didn’t react to that, looking into the distance again. “The thing is,” she whispered, voice raw and aching. The voice of a girl who had seen so much death and destruction, and was trying to brace herself for more. “I’m not really worried about you two.”

There was a long, blissful second where Geralt had no idea what she was referring to. And then suddenly, he heard far-off humming, snippets of ‘Toss a Coin’. His blood ran cold.

“Jaskier,” he realized.

———

Jaskier isn’t like the rest of them - the world is much, much more dangerous for a bard than for Witchers and witches and magical princesses. Ciri and Geralt try to deal with that knowledge. Jaskier helps.

Oneshot,  1,803 words

-  The Path Not Taken by sospes

Jaskier comes across an injured witcher in a backwoods town, months after the events of the dragon hunt. It all just sort of escalates from there.

5/5 Completed,  40,149 words

-  Advantage by sospes

"The drugs have been made specifically for you, to keep you docile. Didn’t want you snapping my neck mid-vengeance, did I?”

Vengeance? “I don’t even know you,” Geralt spits.

The lordling laughs. “Oh, the revenge wasn’t on you."

Jaskier made a mistake. Geralt suffers the consequences.

Oneshot,  10,448 words

-  like a flame that burns the candle by unseenbox

Yennefer lights a fire. Jaskier has some opinions to offer on the subject. Together, they find a way to cope.

Oneshot,  2,363 words

-  resurge infra terra by asweetepilogue

It seemed the alderman had been wrong when he said that the creature’s bite killed instantly. Shame Jaskier was only figuring that out now that he was several feet under.

Oneshot,  1,256 words

-  so hard to say (so easy to do) by asweetepilogue

Jaskier gets left behind, and Nilfgaard is not forgiving of his sacrifice.

Oneshot,  3,165 words

-  so hard to do (so easy to say) by asweetepilogue

They can’t get out of this. He knows it, Geralt knows it. Ciri is starting to, her eerie green eyes wide and frightened. Jaskier can hear them, men shouting off to their left and the sound of footsteps behind them. It’s over.

Nilfgaard closes in, and Geralt has to make a choice.

Oneshot,  698 words

[seidenbros]

“Geralt!”

It's a good day, Geralt figures, since Jaskier recognises him. There are good days like today, but also bad days, where the dementia hits harder, where more of his brain is fogged. Geralt had known that it would not be easy, growing old with a human, but he could never have stepped away from Jaskier. After all, this was the man he loved, that he still loves, that he will do anything for.

Jaskier's hair is grey by now, nearly white, and it rivals Geralt's, only that it is not as long as that of the Witcher. He's not as quick as he used to be, but that's okay, because there are days when his bones feel weak. Especially in winter, his knees and his back hurt more than in the summer, but he still gets around quite well considering his age. But it's not his body, it's his mind that troubles Geralt more, the loss of all these beautiful memories they've created together.

“Tell me again...” Jaskier says when Geralt sits down next to him on the sofa, reaching for his husband's hand. “Do Witcher's ever retire?” It is one of Jaskier's favourite questions, always has been since they settled down. He asked Geralt that same questions years and years ago for the first time, but ever since then, his answer has changed.

“When they slow and get killed,” Geralt answers, intertwining their fingers. “Or when they marry the person that means the world to them.” He raised their joined hands to his lips to press a kiss to Jaskier's knuckles.

And Jaskier does. Mean the world to him that is. Geralt needed some time to realise it, but once he'd done that, he wasn't able to live without Jaskier anymore. They travelled for years, but at one point, they wanted to spend the time they still had in peace and quiet together – be happy. The other Witchers, Yennefer, Ciri, they visit them quite frequently, but Geralt enjoys the time they have alone still the most.

He loves all the little things that have carried on through the years. Jaskier still reaches for his hand when they go somewhere – and he still says that it is so that they won't get separated, but Geralt knows better. He loves the way Jaskier sings when he dries his hair and doesn't even realise it, and even on bad days, he still does that. They still share a bottle of wine and talk until the sun comes up like they did when they had their first real date. That night, he confided in Jaskier, told him about his fears which he'd never done before, and ever since, he's trusted the Bard with everything that is going on in his head, everything that worries him.

Lately, it's been getting worse and worse with Jaskier forgetting things. It's most of the time his short-term memory that is affected, that he forgets about something they had planned, but by now... he even forgets about Geralt. He doesn't let it show, but it hurts Geralt so much, that he doesn't know what to do. He could and would never abandon Jaskier, because he is after all the love of his life, and he will be by his husband's side until the day he dies, but he know that it is not going to be easy, not at all. He knows that it will get even worse, that Jaskier might not remember anything they have experienced together at one point. Yennefer tried to help them, but it only slows the process down a little bit. They don't even know if he'll forget everything or if it will stay like this, that he had more good days than bad, but one thing is certain: Geralt loves him and will be by his side.

“What's this?” Geralt asks looking through the open door at the kitchen.

“Ah well... I don't know,” Jaskier admits, confusion shining in his eyes. Geralt gets up to look at what Jaskier has done, and his husband follows. The look on Geralt's face is all it takes for Jaskier to apologise profusely. “I really don't know what came over me.”

“It's okay, Jaskier.” His features soften, he even smiles at Jaskier before taking his hand again. “We don't need a table to eat dinner, and I can make a new table out of the wood that's in the stable.”

“Are you sure?” He almost looks like a little kid again, even with all the lines in his face, the grey hair, the crow's feet.

“Of course. I never liked that table anyway.” Geralt leans in to kiss Jaskier. It's a little white lie, but he doesn't want Jaskier to worry about it. It's just a stupid table, nothing to spend too much time worrying about.

“What are you up to?” Geralt asks with a laugh when he feels Jaskier's arms come around his body, and he starts swaying with his husband to music that only the Bard can probably hear in his head.

“We used to dance all the time, don't you remember?” Jaskier chuckles and Geralt chimes in. It's easier to joke a little, to laugh than to dwell too long on the memories that have been taken away from Jaskier. So Geralt cherished everything Jaskier does remember – as for the other things, he'll never get tired of telling Jaskier, of reminding him of their wedding ceremony and the way Yennefer of all people wept that day because she was so happy for them.

“Of course I remember,” Geralt eventually say quietly, leaning his forehead against Jaskier's, savouring the moment.

“I know this is not easy...” Jaskier says, still swaying to the non-existent music with his husband. Geralt stiffens, but before he can say anything, Jaskier opens his mouth again. “I understand if you want to leave, if it's too much. And I don't want to burden you with this, but I'm scared of being alone in the dark all of a sudden.”

“You won't be,” Geralt stops him right there and then, framing his husband's face with his hands. “I'll always be right here. And if you find yourself in the dark, I will be the shining light to guide you home, okay?”

Tears well up in Jaskier's eyes, but he nods. It is a gentle kiss they share, one that makes them both taste their tears, because even Geralt cannot keep the tears at bay. It is not easy, and running away, leaving Jaskier behind, never occurred to him. He loved Jaskier, and he will still love him when he is no longer alive.

“You know...” Jaskier says after a moment, reaching up to cup Geralt's face with his hand. “The more I forget, the more you'll have to tell me stories and sing me to sleep, and at the same time... I will get to meet you for the first time every single day.” Jaskier smiles at his Witcher, runs his thumb across the stubble on his cheek. “And fall in love with you over and over again.”

“You're an idiot.” Geralt leans into the touch, a smile on his face. It hurts to think about it, but the way Jaskier phrases it, is so poetic – as per usual – that he can only focus on how beautiful his words are.

“But I'm your idiot.”

Yes... yes he is.

Inspired by: Keywest - The Little Things and TAD - Marbles

[rotisseries]

EXPLAIN BOOK YENNEFER because I'd like to know her before I say anything krmsksms I watched the show but like. quit immediately after her transformation for some Reasons

LMAO FAIR. THE SHOW SUCKS. SAYING THIS AS AN AVID WATCHER OF IT. OK SO DISCLAIMER IT'S BEEN SEVERAL YEARS SINCE I READ THE BOOKS AND I KIND OF DON'T REMEMBER SHIT ANYWAY

she's so interesting like. ok so you got the basic bit of her backstory she wanted the power of being a sorceress but they make sorceresses look beautiful and what they don't tell them is that they'll get a forced hysterectomy. right so they didn't ask she wasn't told and she's like. pissed about it. unfortunately sort of ends up as the "woman can't have children and is so upset about it trope" but she's not too much "I'm a monster because I can't have kids" she's just like. angry about her bodily functions being taken away without her consent. so most of the series is either geralt or ciri's pov so you don't really get much with yennefer's backstory other than some hints but eventually geralt decides to have yen help teach ciri magic and overtime she becomes ciri's surrogate mother but she doesn't become super nurturing and out of character all of a sudden or anything they just love each other very much. ciri and yen is actually very much the "grumpy adult becomes the begrudging parental figure to a young child" trope (if you're thinking "shouldn't that be geralt?" the answer is no. geralt is such a nice person in the books. the show got it so wrong. like he still has emotional issues and shit but they manifest differently. yen is the one more closed off) anyway idk she is just everything 2 me like she's a woman who was mistreated horribly so she obviously went for power and she doesn't regret the power but she is still angry that something was taken from her and then she gets to be the surrogate mother to this young girl and teach her magic and she's so emotionally closed off but UGHHHGJ. and with geralt too like there's a scene where geralt is thinking about how he loves her and she reads his mind (she can read minds) and tells him (indirectly I think, I can't remember) that she loves him too and it's a rare moment of vulnerability for BOTH of them bc even though geralt is nice he isn't really vulnerable and they're both people who've been through some strange bodily transformations without full consent and it's left them unhappy with themselves for various reasons and they don't know how to love right but they're trying to love anyway and they're learning to love people again through the girl they're parenting it's just so UAGDJFJSKNDKSKAS. I CAN'T EXPLAIN IT. YENNEFER OF VENGERBERG MY BELOVED

[lucius-the-sinful]

Feather Dance

Rating: Teen and Up Relationships: Yennefer of Vengerberg/Original Male Character Tags: Yennefer of Vengerberg, Original Witcher Character, Royalty, Pre-cannon, Ballroom Dancing, Flirting Description: Amateur dancing in a stuffy ballroom.

read here on ao3 (account only), full fic below the cut

Zafir enjoyed many benefits during his time in Aedirn, from a room in Vengerberg’s castle to the finest meals fit for a king. Certainly, he traveled within the kingdom’s borders in confidence knowing its people would actually give him due respect. While in Vengerberg in midsummer, the monarchy invited him to a court ball. It felt odd, like he was living a life completely different from his own. Being treated as a knight would, while still tiptoeing around the complicated relationship Aedirn shared with its surrounding kingdoms. All together, it was like he was both a spectator and a participant. He was still unsure what to make of it all, even though he had been a resident for about a decade now.

Zafir arrived at the ball on time, adorning his newest set of Griffon armor, crafted by some of the finest dwarven smiths in Vergen. He also kept his medallion and swords--while they were more than likely unnecessary, it was a symbol of his status as a witcher. He had changed his hair to befit the occasion, fancifully braiding it away from his face, while leaving the rest of it down to fall into white waves around his shoulders. The black streaks on the left side of his face were also pulled back into the braid. He adorned a cloak gifted to him by Aedirn’s monarchy, and a few rings along both sets of fingers. The guards let him through without even asking for invitation, and he was welcomed by the castle’s servers, who gave courteous bows to the witcher before them. Arriving in the main ballroom, there were already dances taking place. Nobles and politicians gathered along the sides, exchanging conversation and sipping on expensive drinks. Music echoed beautifully from all around Zafir, as he made his way deeper in. He found the royal family sitting at the very back. He kneeled before them, as was the proper etiquette for Griffons. The king and queen stood, bowed, and greeted Zafir. The king stepped towards the witcher. 

"Welcome," He smiled widely. "The festivities have barely begun. Come, I want you to meet someone." Zafir nodded. Of course, he respected the family and the king, but over the years he grew weary of the ruler. There were many instances where the king tried to draw Zafir into political matters, in which the Griffon made it clear on multiple occasions it goes against his code and purpose. His suspicion only grew as he was led through the crowd, where a woman in black and white stood, mostly isolated. Her hair fell in black waves past her shoulders, and Zafir couldn’t help but admire her figure from the back. She turned, and Zafir was faced with one of the most beautiful women he's laid eyes on. He was caught up in her violet gaze, but remained completely composed. "This is our new advisor from Aretuza, Yennefer of Vengerberg. Yennefer, I introduce you to the Griffon of Aedirn, Zafir of Spalla." 

Zafir bowed, while Yennefer stood with a more or less bored expression. He offered his hand. "May we dance?" 

Yennefer's lips twitched in a smirk, and she laid her hand into his. "A witcher at a ball, perhaps Aedirn isn't as boring as I thought it would be," The mage said. 

Zafir hummed, and now that they stood next to one another closely, her scent filled his senses, and he was even more drawn to her. Yet, as they formally danced, her dangerous aura engulfed him completely. After a few heartbeats of silence, Zafir spoke in a hushed tone. "You are not fond of this place, why?" 

Yennefer cast her eyes down, swallowing. "It's… a bit complicated." 

"Everything is complicated in the world of politics," Zafir twirled her, catching her in his embrace and locking their contrasting eyes. "As I am certain you have come to realize." 

"I was originally assigned to Nilfgaard," Bitterness seeped into her tone, she stared up at Zafir with clear resentment. 

"Then you dodged a jugular bound arrow," Zafir said, plainly. "The south grows more menacing by the hour." 

Yennefer gave a slight nod, focusing now on where she placed her feet. While a graceful dancer, she felt amateur compared to Zafir, which came to her surprise. All this time she thought witchers were nothing more than men of indignant strife. And yet, this witcher showed humble nobility rivaling that of knights and lords. Perhaps it had more to do with his training, and that all but confirmed it when she glanced at his medallion that took the form of a griffon's head. Of course, she heard few things about witchers to begin with other than what was whispered at Aretuza, but she knew a few basics. Witchers did not all come from one school, for example, but seven. She had not memorized any of them, for she had no need. Zafir caught on to her staring at his medallion, and, while still keeping in step, lifted her chin with a gloved hand. She swallowed thickly as his eyes searched her expression. Caught up in the moment, Yennefer misstepped and began to slip, Zafir caught her by the waist, hand pressed to the small of her back. The mage felt heat creep up her neck, embarrassment plain in her expression. The edges of the witcher's lips twitched upwards. 

"Bite me," She attempted a growl, but it came out with less bite than she intended. Zafir parted his lips, guiding her back upright. 

"I meant no offense," He said. He twirled her a final time, before leading her off the main floor. Yennefer took a moment to straighten her dress, feeling flustered and yet, bristling at the prospect of this witcher attempting to show decency. She picked up another drink, and downed it. Zafir watched, allured but also reeling himself back. In the few moments they spent, tangled in elegant dance, his mood shifted from intrigued to enraptured. Yet he felt he stared at something unattainable, making her even more appealing. 

"How has a witcher found himself in the company of nobles and royalty?" Yennefer asked after a moment, she began walking towards one of the side doors that led out of the main hall and onto a balcony. Zafir trailed behind her. 

"The School of the Griffon prides itself on etiquette and service to those that are helpless. Unlike other schools who are more focused on the sword and brute strength, we are very appealing to kings and kin for our vast knowledge and strict code," He said. "I am not, however, a political advisor. That goes against everything the Griffon teaches."

As they stepped out into the cool air, they found themselves mostly isolated from the rest of the ballroom's guests. Yennefer leaned forward on the railing, Zafir taking up a similar position next to her. "So what is it you do, exactly?" Yennefer narrowed her gaze at him. 

"Kill monsters and help people avoid such threats, as most witchers do. My payment usually comes from the royal family, however," He looked over the city of Vengerberg below them. "And not from the commoners who can barely afford a meal, let alone a witcher." 

"I suppose they house and feed you too, like you are one of them." 

"And why would they not?" Zafir smirked. "You have some very odd, but understandable, misconceptions about witchers." Yennefer let out a laugh. Zafir turned to face the ballroom so as to not be drawn in closer, leaning back against the railing and crossing his arms. “In reality, I despise these sorts of events. A ballroom is no place for a witcher, no matter how courtly he may be.” 

Yennefer glimpsed up at him, straightening. “I’m still used to getting invited in the first place.” The witcher raised an inquiring brow, but nothing more, the sorceress lightly scuffed the brick below with her heel. “So maybe I will agree with enough time.”

Zafir hummed. “Honestly, this is probably the longest I have ever stayed.”

Yennefer scoffed. “Can’t have anything to do with me,” She said sardonically. 

"If you resent it so much here," Zafir offered his elbow again. "Why not walk out?" 

Yennefer eyed him. She shrugged and accepted his offer, if not begrudgingly. "Fine, witcher, impress me." 

[witch-and-her-witcher]

numero 7 por favor, muchos gracias :)

#7 - using the made-up words of their child(ren) in all their conversations

part 1 

It started off innocently enough. The moon had become “sky ball”, non-shorts “long sleeve pants”, and rhinoceroses were “battle unicorns”. 

The over analytical sides of Yennefer and Geralt’s brains said it was Ciri’s way of taking control of her daily life as she settled into her new routine, new home, new family - renaming objects. Her teachers claimed it was completely developmentally appropriate for a six year old and an indication of a solid grasp of language, abstract concepts and most importantly of all a vivid imagination. 

The next development was more entertaining.

“The solid black booby bag or the black with lace booby bag?” Geralt asked cheekily from the wardrobe.

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you didn’t play any part in that one?” She pointed to the lacey bra.

Geralt wiggled his eyebrows provocatively as he handed the undergarment to his wife. “I wish I had, anything to pay homage to those beautiful - “

Yennefer shut the bathroom door before she had to hear him finish the rest of the sentence while she finished dressing. 

When she reemerged, hair tamed and fully clothed, Geralt was sitting on the bed cross legged with Ciri in his lap and a book opened that she was making up the narrative for. Her round face lit up at the sight of Yennefer.

“Mummy! Can I pick your uppy shoes out for you?”

Yennefer snorted. “Yes, just make sure the uppy shoes have red bottoms. This client is a snob.”

Ciri bopped to the wall in the closet dedicated to Yennefer’s shoes. “What’s ‘snob’ mean?”

The parents shot a look towards each other. It was difficult getting caught in their own moral traps, they had spent the last month after the bullying incident preaching against using hurtful words against others and standing up for others if Ciri witnessed someone getting called hurtful words.

“Someone who likes things that cost a lot of money,” Geralt filled in, always the quickest at communicating at Ciri’s level.

Ciri brought a pair of red bottomed heels to Yennefer. “These?”

Yennefer leaned down to press a kiss to the top of the girl’s head. “Perfect, dear.”

The next level was apparently created to simultaneously rip her parents’ hearts out and fill them with an unbelievable warmth.

“You’re a big hug on my heart.”

Geralt’s eyes threatened to mist over, and he had to squeeze the words through a suddenly tight throat. “What was that, Ciri?”

“You’re both a big hug on my heart.” The little girl wrapped one arm around each parent’s arm sandwiching her on the couch and squeezed. “Like that.”

Yennefer had to cough several times before she found words - possibly a first for Geralt to witness. “You’re a big hug on our hearts too, Ciri, the biggest.”

Ciri nuzzled her mom’s side. “How big?” she asked with a smile.

“What’s the biggest you can think of?” Geralt asked.

“Hm ... The ocean?”

“Then a hug bigger than the ocean.”

Ciri’s mouth fell agape and she looked between both of them. “Whoa...” she said in awe.

“Whoa,” Geralt agreed.

And then the six year old was back to being engrossed in her pony cartoon while Geralt and Yennefer had to figure out how to recover from the most endearing expression of love they had ever heard.

Later, after Ciri was peacefully asleep in the room across the hall, in their own bed once they had arranged pillows and blankets and comfortably laid down, Yennefer opened her arms to allow Geralt to rest his head on her chest and wrap his arms around her as she began to run her fingers through his hair. It was a routine they stuck with most nights.

“You’re a big hug on my heart,” Geralt said quietly, enjoying the steady beat of Yennefer’s heart beneath his ear pressed against her cool skin.

Yennefer laughed softly. “I don’t know if my arms are big enough.”

“I’ve never heard you complain about size before?”

That earned a less graceful snort. “This may come as a shock, but I think your heart may be bigger than your other endowments.”

Geralt looked up at her with a mockingly hurt expression. Yennefer just shrugged. “I started dating you for the latter, but that big heart is what convinced me to marry you.”

Snuggling back into his favorite spot, Geralt responded, “Well, I won’t say yours is bigger than mine, but I think it’s grown a size or two over the years to keep up.”

“All the hugs on it from you and Ciri have helped.” She returned to petting his hair thoughtfully.

“Damnit, I love that little girl.”

Yennefer hummed, letting her eyes fall shut as she continued the motion just as soothing for herself as for her partner. It was hard to imagine their hearts any fuller.

--

Anon, sorry for the delay! This one had me a little stumped, but I still had the warm and fuzzies from the bullying prompt so decided to continue with that!

[blackberrywars]

Berry’s Masterpost

♥️ A new and improved, mostly comprehensive version of my masterpost, to be used as a guide to my works and/or my blog ♥️

Tags to find/block posts: #berry’s fics, #berry’s games, #the witcher, #legend of korra, #osha violation, #bears, #berry cute in the berry queue

Asks/PMs: always welcome, whether we are mutuals or strangers. If you want to talk/ask about my blog/fics, or if you just want to chat!

Ask Games: I’m basically always down to play these, no matter how long ago I reblogged it, so please feel free to send an ask about anything. All the games I’ve participated in should be in #berry’s games

Fics: all available on my AO3, some available right here on tumblr. There’s a lot for the witcher, especially wlw Lambert/Aiden, but I’ve also branched out into writing for the Legend of Korra.

♥️ The Witcher ♥️

Request Fics

Kitten-Tossing: (Teen/959/No Archive Warnings Apply) Guxart discovers a new and efficient method for keeping his rowdy kittens entertained, all while developing their sense of balance and spatial awareness. (On Tumblr)

Waltzing Wolves: (Teen/1,049/No Archive Warnings Apply) Geralt has seen many, many things in his very, very long lifetime. He has never, as his partner Jaskier points out, champagne glass tipped just so, seen Agent Eskel dance a waltz. (On Tumblr)

Copy-Cat: (Mature/2,364/No Archive Warnings Apply) Keira thinks she’s rescuing a half-dead Cat for her boyfriend, only to realize she’s saved the wrong one. Oh well. (On Tumblr)

Grampa’s House: (General Audiences/1,945/No Archive Warnings Apply) Vesemir struggles to figure out what to do while watching his five year-old granddaughter for the weekend because he’s an old-ass man with old-ass man hobbies. Turns out she likes that just fine. (On Tumblr)

Two Cloaks, XXXL: (Explicit/1,376/No Archive Warnings Apply) Erland is determined to win the most difficult battle he's ever faced: getting Arnaghad to wear weather-appropriate clothing. No matter how much the big bastard insists he's fine without it. (On Tumblr)

2022 Witcher Summer Camp

With Her Own Two Hands: (Teen/2678/No Archive Warnings Apply) Aiden spends her winter building a safe, warm nest for her baby wolf, and doesn’t regret a single splinter. (On Tumblr)

Flint And Steel: (Teen/2848/No Archive Warnings Apply) Jaskier watches Geralt and Yennefer tear each other apart, and decides that, at the very least, Ciri shouldn’t have to put up with that shit. (On Tumblr)

The Art Of Threats: (Explicit/3433/No Archive Warnings Apply) Ivo hates the sun, and he hates being sweaty, but he hates the thought of a beardless Junod even more. Cue the filth. (On Tumblr) 

Calm Before The Storm- (Explicit/4879/No Archive Warnings Apply) Arnaghad and Erland have a final confrontation before the end, but they both know they’re a tragedy in the making. (On Tumblr)

Half-Drowned Kitten- (Teen/1962/No Archive Warnings Apply) Aiden would have gotten herself killed chasing beautiful sirens, except Lambert is there to save her, and she falls in love. (On Tumblr)

Guxart’s Fables- (Teen/4350/No Archive Warnings Apply) Every night, Guxart reads a fable to a tangled pile of kittens, and on this one, he teaches them a slightly biased version of their history. (On Tumblr)  

Laiden Gets Laid (Again and Again)

Sweeter Than Pride- (Explicit/2524/No Archive Warnings Apply) Aiden is so fucking proud of her baby wolf... and all she wants to do is take her completely apart, as low as it makes her feel sometimes.

Collars Of Many Kinds- (Explicit/1830/No Archive Warnings Apply) Aiden hates Lambert's armor, specifically the ugly, flaking, fucking hideous collar. Her baby wolf deserves better than that, and she's damn well gonna get it.

Curiosity Killed The Cat- (Explicit/5142/No Archive Warnings Apply) Lambert tries to get in some stress relief, and Aiden is very accidentally a peeping tom. It works out for both of them

Digging Graves  —Crawling Out

No Grave- (Mature/2293/No Archive Warnings Apply) Jad Karadin kills Aiden and buries her six feet deep. It’s not gonna be enough to keep her from her from her baby wolf.

As A Shrike- (Explicit/8700/Graphic Descriptions of Violence & Major Character Death) One by one, Lambert hunts down Aiden’s killers, and absolutely nothing and no one can stop her

You’re Good To Me- (Mature/4371/No Archive Warnings Apply); Aiden crawls from her grave and gets help from an unexpected source. Lots of healing and re-learning how to witcher again.  

♥️ Legend of Korra/Avatar the Last Airbender ♥️

His Clothes: (Teen/3,213/No Archive Warnings Apply) A newly-liberated P’li desperately needs something to wear, and Zaheer is more than happy to give her the clothes off his back. Too bad he’s kind of into it. (On Tumblr)

All Things End: (Teen/1,623/No Archive Warnings Apply) A re-write of Ghazan’s escape scene where he realizes his tattoos have faded along with his hope, just before Zaheer arrives and he kisses him on the mouth. (On Tumblr)

[bitchylittlevictorianchild]

Love, love, love, love, love reading fanfiction for a fandom that I am not actually a part of. It's healing. It's beautiful. It is, dare I say, a form of self-care. Also, it is incredibly fun to try and figure out what's actually Canon in a universe/story that you have never invested time in. For instance, right now I've been reading fanfiction for The Witcher.

Here is what I know about the franchise thus far:

Geralt is a powerful Witcher

He has a horse named Roach

This horse is his best friend, which consequently makes him a Horse Girl

Roach never runs

Roach doesn't like other people

Except Jaskier

And Ciri

Ciri can make portals

She is very powerful

She's kind of weird

She's Geralt's child

She is also basically Jaskier's child

And Yennefer's child

Ciri has a lot of parents actually

There's this big mountain castle thing that Witchers convene at every year to talk about general tomfoolery and things like that

There are Hot Springs.

Geralt's mother abandoned him

He was raised with other Witcher children by an older Witcher

Found family is a huge topic and theme within not only the franchise, but within the fandom

Jaskier is a flamboyant bard that follows Geralt around and I am in love with him

They're Weird Boy Best Friends.

Jaskier writes a song for Geralt entitled Burn Butcher Burn. I cannot legibly explain this song without breaking down into maniacal screaming and violent sobbing.

It's basically a dis track that would give Taylor Swift a run for her money any day, or in this case, any century. And that is explaining it lightly.

Jaskier gets tortured because of Geralt

It affects his hands, which in turn affects his music capabilities

Geralt trusts Jaskier to take Ciri, his daughter, to the Big Witcher Mountain Meeting

Yennefer is a witch

She's intense as fuck, but she cares deeply - if not recklessly - about the people she loves.

She's also a princess

Also Ciri is a princess

Yennefer helps Ciri train

Chaos is basically magic

Witchers are not actually human

Geralt speaks in grunts. This is, objectively, very funny.

Geralt has white hair. Like it's white white.

Elves exist? And are prejudiced against??

People hate Geralt for some reason

Yennefer and Geralt had a thing, but Geralt broke it off

Yennefer and Jaskier bond over their breakups with Geralt in a bar at one point.

This is one of the scenes that would make an average straight viewer go "Awww :(" and a queer viewer go "WHAT THE FUCK-"

There are many scenes that illicit the same response

Wyverns exist

Geralt is similar to the mythical Greek hero Achilles because he too would exact insane and terrifying means of revenge on those who have hurt the people he loves, and he simply would not see the absolute unhinged nature of his actions.

Ladies, gents, and my gender non-conforming friends, this laugh riot is cheaper than therapy, yet somehow more healing than any coping skill I've ever utilized.

[apomaro-mellow]

Catch Your Death snippet

Death showed itself the moment a life was brought into the world. It was odd, seeing a strange figure hovering over people. When Jaskier first realized what it was, it frightened him, to be able to see such things. But in a way, it was a relief. Whenever he saw the specter, he prepared himself for the goodbyes. Jaskier couldn't tell what exactly would do the person in. But typically whenever the shadow hovered, the person had no longer than a year.

That's what they did. Hovered, floated by, stood in the corner. If their charge was on the move, so were they, always following just a few paces behind. Never too far once that person's destiny was set and they were on the path.

So imagine his surprise when, one fair day, sitting in the town square, preparing for a performance to the milling folk, he saw someone's death. But they were not following behind. Rather, they were in front, walking away at a brisk pace.

Death came in many forms and this one was a beauty with violet eyes. Her body was wrapped in a cloak of shadows. The one following her, her supposed mortal soul appointed to her, was a man of white hair and gold eyes. Somehow he looked equally ethereal. But he was definitely human. His steps had weight, while hers barely touched the ground.

He was giving chase as if he could actually see her. Sometimes people did physically move toward their Deaths but that was typically at the very end, when Death finally wrapped their arms around in their signature embrace. This man...he was a man on the mission.

Jaskier was so taken aback, he didn't realize he was just standing there, instrument at the ready, mouth completely agape.

He tripped over himself running after the man. He smelled a song.

That was how he met Geralt and Yennefer.

"He's a weak little puppy snot who won't leave me alone", Yennfer said when both Jaskier and Geralt pinned her down.

She across from them. Jaskier had ordered three drinks, forgetting himself for a moment, but then remembered their server couldn't see Yennefer. They put the drink down with nothing more than a strange look though. Geralt being here and talking to her made her seem all the more solid.

"But people don't just SEE their Deaths. They never see them coming", Jaskier said to Yennefer and then turned to the enigmatic man beside him. "How can you?"

"Witchers are always close to death", Geralt answered, prompting an eye roll from Yennefer. "But I, in particular, have seen her face close to mine so many times..." His eyes grew soft and Jaskier got excited at what he was witnessing. "Now she is all I see."

"You're...in love with your own Death. That's! ...Stars above that's so poetic, it's so sad, it's romantic, it's heart-wrenching, it's...it's...song material."

"It's pathetic, is what it is", Yennefer said. "And I can't get assigned to another soul until he dies."

"Well, I mean, he's chasing you. Doesn't that essentially mean he's chasing death?" Jaskier had never seen this happen before so he was curious. "If he catches you, won't he just die?"

"There is an order to everything. He is to die how he is supposed to die."

Jaskier looked her up and down. He had never directly talked to someone's Death before so he was a little out of his depth. But he had always thought they'd have good poker faces. Something about Yennefer's body language though...it was telling.

"What I'm interested in is how you can see me, bard", she pointed her eyes at him.

Jaskier shrugged, uninterested. "It's just something that's always been a part of me."

"And you have no inclination to solve that mystery?"

"I'm the storyteller, not the subject."

"Can you see your own death then?", Geralt spoke up.

Jaskier looked around the room. "Sometimes I think it's mine. But it's always someone else's. I've never seen my own."

"You seem the type to run into your own death regularly", Yennefer scorned.

"Enough about me, tell me your whole story. I never stop until I get a song~", he grinned.

[spookyscaryskeleton-creepypasta]

The Witch and Pig- disclaimer and some character info

=

-I don't own anything but the oc [sadly T-T]

-Don't own anyone mentioned, I only own Frejya

-Will have some, not all, Dsmp events. So Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy will all be kids of young age like 10 years old which is the main plot change so everyone else will be their normal age but them and didn't participate in any wars and such because of it. This is also sbi family au, you know the drill.

-This is for to honor Technoblade, Rest in Peace dear legend. This is also entrainment purposes.

-No sexual content (may allude to sexual stuff however and there may be sexual jokes)

-16+

-Strong Language

-Cringy and corny = [onto Frejya]

=

- Her name is Frejya but she is known as her title Frejya of Istar

- She is a witch of elven blood. She is basically Ciri but more powerful and knows how to control her powers, she also speaks the Elven language. This also means she's immortal. She actually attended Aretuza before Yennefer and left before she could be assigned to a Kingdom.

- She is described by those she meets as "The most beautiful woman to exist". She has long beautiful white hair and enchanting emerald green eyes. She has a beautiful figure as well ( her measurements are Bust 94 cm (37) Waist 58 cm (23) Hips 93 cm (36)Bra Size 37 H Cup. She is also 6 feet tall, only two inches shorter than Geralt and Technoblade who are 6'2.

- You would never guess it but she's is actually 117 years old but looks like she's 20.

- She's known Geralt ever since she left Aretuza and traveled with him for many years. They consider each other siblings which her being the big sister and him the little brother considering she's about a little older than 17 years older than him (Geralt is like 98-99 years old). Their bond is actually so strong, they know each other's thoughts, feelings, and know when they are in need of help without having to speak with each other and no magic involved. She left a few years before he met Jaskier and Yennefer.

- Unlike Geralt she believes in Destiny and Fate

- That's all I'll tell you now, enjoy!

[open--till--midnight]

Your Dance

yennefer x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

warnings | smut 18+, minors DNI

wc | .4k

a/n | Of course the first time i write yennefer it’s smut (figures) but i am still trying to figure out how to write her, this is just kind of practice

I also tried writing a little different than i normally do, so that’s why it’s way shorter than i’d like it to be

***

Yennefer’s lover should be powerful, strong-willed, brave. She should be a mage or a witcher. An otherworldly beauty, gifted with the same magic she had been given who could match her, as an equal.

But you weren’t a mage, you weren’t powerful, and in your eyes you were most certainly not her equal. But in the violet eyes of Yennefer, you were everything, so much more than her equal.

And when you opened your arms to her she happily received your affections. She too let you in, it had been gradual, but now your connection is unbreakable. She would kill for you, and you would let her.

So you do your dance. Your mouth pleasures her, as long as it takes, and you make her hold out as long as you want her to.  She likes yielding control, letting you take the reins, no real consequence to her actions. 

Hours you could spend between her thighs. Hours she would relish in the euphoric attention. Hours you have and will spend just like this. Her moans filling the air and her hands tangling with yours. 

When you come up for air she likes to taste herself on your lips. Air no longer becomes a necessity when your tongues make their own love in your mouths. Her hands will cup the back of your head as if you could dissapear at any second. 

Your fingers tread lightly over her curves. Down her breasts, lingering on each nipple, down to her waist, giving her a light squeeze when you get to her hips. Then two of your fingers find their way to her folds, spreading them, exposing her excitement. You will never be as confident as you are in these moments. After you coat her lips in her slick, you push through, one and then another. Your fingers move diligently, as if beckoning her to reach her climax. 

And she will return the pleasure, she always does, but tonight was her night and you will treat her like a queen. Giving her what you know she needs, what you know she wants and everything she asks. 

[randomlyrankingthings]

Top 10 Netflix Original Series

10. The Haunting of Bly Manor

Created by Mike Flanagan

Full disclaimer, this series will break your heart. You will cry… a lot. It gets compared to Flanagan’s other instalment of The Haunting anthology, Hill House, because some fans were expecting this series to be just as scary. However, what people need to appreciate is that a haunting can mean a number of different things. While there are ghosts in this story, the series actually explores its characters being haunted by love. Bly Manor is a more gothic take on the horror genre, based on the novel The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, and follows a young au pair as she takes care of two young children who have recently suffered a tragic loss. As I said, it is utterly heartbreaking throughout, but it is an extremely beautiful series, so is worth the pain.

9. The Witcher

Created by Lauren Schmidt Hissrich

Since the series first aired, I have heard a number of people compare it to another TV fantasy epic, Game of Thrones. However, I think a much closer comparison would be to Lord of the Rings. This show is pure fantasy in the production design, the acting, and the characters themselves, which is no surprise given it was both a book and a video game before the series was made. We follow a witcher, Geralt of Rivia, on varying different quests, but with one ultimate goal. While he is, in a way, the titular character, the show also focuses on Yennefer, a powerful mage, and Ciri, a runaway Princess. The three characters are linked by destiny and must unite together. I definitely don’t think this will be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you appreciate fantasy then it doesn’t get much more genre-defining than this.

8. Sex Education

Created by Laurie Nunn

This wonderfully quirky comedy has only gotten more popular with each new series, and rightly so. It is a very modern telling of the classic coming-of-age narrative, which is what gives the show its appeal. We see the lives and relationships of teenagers as they figure out becoming young adults. However, we also follow their parents and how they cope with raising hormonal teenagers whilst dealing with their own trials and tribulations. Each character, even the least likeable ones, have something about them that makes you root for them. While romance is undeniably the central focus of the show, it is actually the beautiful and unexpected friendships which shine through. This is a loveable and uplifting show, certain to put you in a good mood.

7. Glow

Created by Liz Flahive & Carly Mensch

Unfortunately, this glorious show got cancelled right in the middle of its prime, but the three seasons that are available are nothing short of brilliant. With a spectacular ensemble of women leading this talented cast, carrying scenes filled with hilarity and drama equally, there's nothing this show doesn't have. I mean, come one, women wrestlers... in the 80s... what more could you want? The show has some really interesting commentary of the politics of the era, and of the acting industry in relation to gender and race, and it's all mixed in seamlessly with immensely funny comedy. Oh, and as if it couldn't get any cooler, it is based off a real 80s wrestling show of the same name. I am seriously going to need another network to pick this show up, because it is such a sore loss for TV now that it's gone.

6. Squid Game

Created by Hwang Dong-hyuk

No introduction needed for this smash hit. That being said, if you have been living under a rock this past year, the story follows Gi-hun, a divorced father who is having major money problems and is offered the opportunity to win a fortune by playing school games… with a dark twist. This one is for all you gore lovers out there. However, it isn’t all about the horror, as the series also creates the perfect narrative for the topic of economic struggle, addiction in all its forms, and the unexpected bonds the different players form as the series develops. This show is not for the faint of heart, and definitely not for children. Be prepared to dry your tears.

5. Midnight Mass

Created by Mike Flanagan

Another absolute knock out by Mike Flanagan, this series is a wonderfully unique take on the supernatural. Without giving too much away, the story takes place on a very small island where everyone knows everyone. When a new priest arrives, strange happenings occur which puts people’s religious faith into question. There are a number of other central themes and plot lines, but religion is at the forefront of everyone’s lives on the island. With an unquestionable standout performance from Hamish Linklater as the priest, this series is quite the breath of fresh air for the narrative of religion and supernatural myths. I truly believe Mike Flanagan can do no wrong, so there is nothing to lose in watching this very intriguing series.

4. The Good Place

Created by Michael Schur

Life’s ultimate question - “where do we go when we die?” - gets an interesting answer with this hilarious, beautiful series. We follow a group of unassuming misfits who find themselves in ‘The Good Place’ following their respective deaths, however, one person doesn’t believe she belongs there. This show perfectly encapsulates the ethics of life in a wonderfully eccentric way, filled with unlikely friendships, excellent plot twists, and a remarkable cast. The thing that I love and respect most about this show, is that it didn’t overstay its welcome. With a humble four seasons, it tells its story wonderfully and doesn’t feel like it is filled with anything unnecessary. The cast have an adorable chemistry fit a comedy of this style, portraying characters that you instantly fall in love with. 10/10 would recommend.

3. Orange is the New Black

Created by Jenji Kohan

This is yet another series that needs no introduction for Netflix fanatics. With a long run to boast about, and numerous awards in its name, Orange is the New Black will be on people’s radar for many years to come. If you have yet to watch the series, we follow many different characters and their time in women’s federal prison. The cast is a large ensemble oozing with talent in both comedy and drama alike, with the series’ main genre being a large debate topic during its run. While it has many funny moments, there is no denying that this series is pure drama, with many emotional storylines littered throughout. If you give this one a go, you’ll have diverse characters to fall in love with, and a handful of wonderful “villains” to hate too. Entertainment all round.

2. The Queen's Gambit

Created by Scott Frank & Allan Scott

Firstly, I highly recommend reading the book of the same name, written by Walter Tevis. In doing this, it will greatly increase your appreciation for this series, not that it isn’t exquisite without reading the book. I highly doubt I’m the only person who fell in love with chess while following the protagonist, Beth Harmon, and her love for the game. I still don’t understand the rules at all, but I see a beauty to it now that I didn’t before. Never have I been more surprised to be so invested in a series. It left me very pleasantly surprised, with a wonderful ensemble led by Anya Taylor-Joy. There is only one word to describe it - perfection.

1. The Haunting of Hill House

Created by Mike Flanagan

The predecessor to the aforementioned Bly Manor, The Haunting of Hill House is one of the most well-structured and beautifully told stories I have ever seen. Based on the book of the same name by Shirley Jackson, this interpretation tells the heartbreaking story of a family torn apart by their haunted house. While it is, primarily, a ghost story, the series’ underlying focus is on how the house effects each member of the Crain family throughout their lives, even after moving away. It aptly represents mental illness and the effects of childhood trauma, and wraps it up neatly in a paranormal horror story, with stunning performances by the entire cast. If you’re looking for a good scare and a good cry, give this amazing series a watch.

[witchersgoldenbard]

How about Yennskier and something along the lines of "I can't make the pain go away, but we can share the burden"? 🥰🧡

oh thank you dearest. I've not yet written enough hurt/comfort with these two! this one ran away from me once more, as these things tend to do, and now here we are.

wc: 3k | tags: yennskier, hurt/comfort, they're both vulnerable, nightmares, post-s2

When Jaskier looks at Yennefer, the first thing he sees is the stubborn set of her jaw and the fierce, determined look in her eyes. That’s always the first thing to captivate him before he lets his eyes wander and takes in the rest of what makes her so beautiful. She won’t want to hear it, after having sacrificed so much for that truly wonderful body of hers, but to Jaskier what makes her the most beautiful woman on the continent is the way she holds herself and the way she looks at the world like she has it all figured out. And the way she looks at him, sometimes, like he is the one thing she can’t quite figure out. Like he is the odd one out, the one thing to catch her interest in this vast universe. It’s addictive, the way she looks at him.

But even more addictive is looking at her. Yennefer is beautiful. She is strong, fierce and determined even at her lowest.

That is why he falters when suddenly she looks up at him with wide, scared eyes, looking so small and fragile. Her body is shaking, her breath coming in wavering gasps, and her eyes are filled with tears as she stares. He’s not quite sure she can see him, and he doesn’t dare to move closer.

“Yen,” he whispers, frozen to the spot. “You had a nightmare. You’re safe. It’s okay, we’re at Kaer Morhen. You with me?”

This happens a lot. Usually it’s Jaskier who’s awakened by the nightmares, feeling like his hands are burning and that he can’t breathe because the air is filled with the smell of burning flesh and he just wants to throw up. And Yen is always there, always soothing him. Sometimes with her hands on his temples, working her magic to calm him with more than words and touch. She is always there.

But she never lets Jaskier be there, never lets him see. They both know he sees nonetheless, and that’s what bothers her so much, he thinks. That’s what makes her lash out. Because after her nightmares she doesn’t look at him like he’s the one thing she can’t decipher yet. Instead, there is fear in her eyes, like Jaskier is the one who could make her already shaken world cave and crumble. Like Jaskier has the power to make her fall apart with only a look of sympathy and kindness and undisguised love.

And Yennefer of Vengerberg is not one to easily be vulnerable, so she lashes out. Every time, like a caged animal, and Jaskier stands there and takes it when she says, "Get out," her voice cold and strangely detached like it hasn’t been in a while. Haunted.

This nightmare was a bad one. Different. And the way she says it, like some part of her is begging him to leave, to get out, as far away as he possibly can. It breaks something inside him, and Jaskier has always been so very bad at hiding that. He can’t just leave her like this.

"Yen," he tries, but she won't hear it, climbs out of bed in one fluid motion that almost manages to hide the trembles shaking her body.

"I said, get out! Don't make me hex you, Julian, you know I won't hesitate.”

Julian. That stings more than it should, and he almost feels like it would have been kinder for her to just hex him, or use something like axiito make him. He searches her face for an ounce of regret, but only finds that stubborn set of jaw and an eyebrow raised almost as if in challenge. What makes her so beautiful every other day is the beast that holds her captive against her own fear now, and beasts never hesitate to lash out.

A moment later he is out of the room, the door magically shut right behind him, and it stings.

No, it hurts.

Everyone is always so incredibly ready to lash out against him and they know, they trust, that he will just let it happen. That he will just be there, waiting for the next blow. He’s always the one getting hurt, and he is always the one finding excuses for that. And it’s getting harder and harder to find apologies for them where they won’t deliver themselves.

It’s all getting a bit old, and Jaskier is overcome with a sudden wave of exhaustion as he leans against the wall beside her door, cold stone uncomfortable against his back, but he doesn’t have it in himself to move.

All he wants is for someone to want him to stay. To make him stay instead of leave. He doesn’t understand why that’s asking for too much. But he knows it was stupid to think that Yennefer was ready to let someone in. Into her bed, into her heart, into her mind. To think that the way she smiles at him and the way she holds him when his own nightmares wreck him are enough to make her want him to stay.

He sighs and closes his eyes against the tears threatening to form in his eyes. It’s unfair to think that, unfair to put this on her shoulders when there is so much trauma she has to deal with. She just needs time. It’s just… He’s so scared, so afraid, so fucking terrified of losing one more person because they find he cares too much, he meddles with their heart and their mind and their life too much just by being in it. He can’t lose Yen like he lost Geralt, like he lost the Countess de Stael, like he lost everyone. He can’t go through that again. No matter how much time she needs, no matter how desperately he wants to share her pain, to lift it from her shoulders and replace it with gentle, skilled hands. No matter how much he loves her, it can’t go on like this. He can’t be another person’s punching bag the very moment things start to get a little too close to the heart.

Still, he doesn’t leave. He should, maybe, but the thought of leaving her alone in this room, the thought of leaving her behind like everyone before him did, is more unbearable than the sting of rejection. He was never one for self-preservation, after all. So he slides down the wall and sits there, staring at the blank grey wall opposite him and gives her the space she needs until she finds that space might actually be the last thing she wants.

The way it always happens.

And then, true to form, it’s only a few minutes later when the door opens again and a silent Yennefer steps out to sit beside him, close enough so their arms are touching from shoulder to elbow. She’s seeking out his warmth and he lets her, smiles as he keeps staring at the wall but feels her eyes upon him for a brief moment before she looks away. She’s calmer now, her breath stronger and her hands not shaking anymore.

A silence settles between them, and Jaskier doesn’t mind just basking in her presence and letting her do the same. It’s what little comfort he has to offer, what he is allowed to offer.

He doesn’t expect the apology when it comes. “I’m sorry.”

What for, he wants to ask, because he would really love to know. He doesn’t dare to, is too scared that it would make everything worse. he

“You deserve better, Jaskier.”

“It’s fine,” he says then before he can stop that treacherous tongue of his. “Nobody in this life or the next would agree with you. It’s fine.”

She sighs and it almost sounds pained, helpless, and Jaskier feels like an ass for making it worse. An apology rests on his tongue, but it’s cut off when Yennefer grabs his hand.

“Then they’re all wrong,” she says, determined once more, and Jaskier knows he would find nothing but beauty if he looked over. He doesn’t, only keeps his eyes on the bleak stone wall. “You… You deserve better.”

Jaskier doesn’t say anything, but a terrible feeling settles in his stomach, in his chest, in his heart. A feeling of doom, an apprehension of what Yen might say next. Of what she might have convinced herself to be the truth. Of what she has decided without a care for what Jaskier wants.

Like everyone has always done.

He swallows, tries to hide the tears and braces himself for the silence before and after the inevitable words to leave Yen’s soft lips.

“You’re scared,” she says instead, and Jaskier screws his eyes shut, bites his lips, holds his breath to collect himself. “What has you so scared, Jaskier?”

He wants to laugh. He wants to cry. He wants to pretend that this won’t end like he fears it will. Like it always does.

“You’re telling me to leave, that I deserve better. I’m sorry if I’m being overly dramatic or emotional here, Yennefer, but in my experience there is only one way this conversation could possibly go, and it’s not in my favour, no matter how convinced of it you are.”

He huffs and takes a deep breath, still not daring to open his eyes and look at her.

“You’re gonna tell yourself you’re bad for me. Or, if you wanna do it like our favourite witcher here, you’re gonna tell yourself I’m bad for you. You’re gonna see the way I look at you and you’re going to run away as far as you can. As fast as you can. Leaving me in shambles and with barely an idea about what to do with myself. If not now, then someday soon. Because I’m not going to stop caring about you, Yennefer, so better do it now than leave me waiting, yeah?”

It hurts. Oh, it fucking hurts, but it’s also freeing to just let go like this, to voice his bitterness where she can hear it, instead of in the form of song where people will praise him but she will never make the connection. She deserves better than being the target of it and carrying decades upon decades of abandonment and heartbreak, but it’s all he has to offer right now. If she gets to be the one to lash out, he gets to be the one to cower in her presence and lick his wounds.

The silence that follows his words is terribly heavy, but Yennefer doesn’t move from his side. Instead, her head comes to rest on his shoulder. Slowly, so very slowly does it find its usual spot, and Jaskier wants to cry.

“I’m stumbling through darkness,” she says, and it sounds like she’s far away. “That’s what I told Tissaia in Aretuza when I didn’t have my magic. And do you know what she said? ‘From the moment we met, you have been trying to fill a void.’ I didn’t want to admit it then, but she was right. Do you know when I found out she was right?” She pauses, but Jaskier dares not to move, to say anything, to even hum. He only swallows and she lets out a tiny huff. “I found out in Oxenfurt, when I had no magic, no hope, just went through the sewers with a bunch of traitorous elves. And there was no point to anything. But then I heard your stupid, dramatic song about Geralt, and suddenly I smiled for the first time. I remember because it hurt my cheeks, it’s been so long since I did. Everything was… it wasn’t even falling apart anymore, it had already fallen apart. And then there you were, and suddenly it wasn’t so bad anymore.”

Her voice is wavering, and if Jaskier only dared to look, to think, to hope, he would say it sounds like she’s trying not to cry.

“I asked Tissaia, ‘Tell me how to save myself’, and she couldn’t. I couldn’t. Nobody could. But then… there you were. And you made it look so easy with your blue eyes and your smile and your insults against my person. You just… You saved me, Jaskier. In ways nobody has ever done before, and in ways nobody will ever do again.”

She is crying now, her voice shallow where she’s pushing through, and her tears forming a tiny wet spot on his shoulder, seeping through the fabric of his chemise. Jaskier doesn’t say anything, his own throat closed up now, but he carefully rests his head on hers.

You saved me, too, he wants to tell her. In more ways than one. Please don’t leave me here.

“And some days I don’t know what to do with that,” she admits finally. “Because you’re there, you’re here. I treat you like shit and still you’re here, still you want to… to save me.”

“You don’t treat me like shit, Yen,” he says, and he almost sounds tired.

“I do. When I wake up from those nightmares, I—”

“When you wake up from your nightmares, you need space. It’s just something I have to learn to give you.”

A beat. “I don’t.”

Jaskier frowns. “Hm?”

“After my nightmares, I don’t need space.”

“Then why do you—”

“I dream of the world on fire. It’s burning because of me. And I watch it burn, I feel powerful because I can do this, I did this in Sodden, I can easily burn the whole world if only I tried hard enough. And it feels good.”

Jaskier tenses up beside her, his heartbeat picking up as he remembers the fire, remembers the smell of burning flesh and imagines Yennefer’s face instead of Firefucker. It’s hard not to panic, even though he knows it’s stupid. She wouldn’t.

“And then it all changes and through the fire I hear your screams. And it’s you I’m burning, and I hear your cries and screams and agony, and I can’t stop. I can’t stop, Jaskier, and you end up hurt, and then I wake up and you’re there, and it makes me panic like nothing else does. Because I can’t hurt you, Jask. I can’t. But I’m so, so scared that if I wake from a nightmare and you’re there to hold me and tell me I’m fine when I can’t believe it, I’m scared that I’ll just think it’s still a dream. That I’ll give in to that voice that keeps calling me to the fire. And that I will burn you. I can’t betray you like that, Jaskier. I can’t hurt you like that, I—”

“You won’t,” he says, and he’s crying now, too, blindly reaching for her hand. Her grip is almost too hot before he remembers that it’s only the phantom burns that make him believe that. “You hear me, Yen? You’re not gonna hurt me like he did. You’re not going to hurt me like that, ever. Because you’re good. You’re strong and powerful and so, so much better than you think you are.”

He raises her hand to his lips and turns to face her. Oh, what a sight they must make to the world, sitting on the cold stone floor, their faces red and streaked with tears and such vulnerability that it would put any other lover to shame.

“I cannot take that fear from you. I cannot take away your pain with a flick of my wrist or a kiss to your temple. But I can try to share your pain, my love. Talk to me. Tell me about what scares you, tell me what you see when you close your eyes at night. Let yourself trust me. Let me try to save you when you need saving. Together, we can get through this. We can share the burden. You don’t have to do this alone. Please.”

She has long since stopped looking at him, instead focusing on their joined hands.

After a beat of silence, she says, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Good,” Jaskier nods, a bit too eager to not lose her like he feared he would. “I can stay. Because you’re saving me, too, you know?”

She looks up then, her eyes meeting his, and she’s so vulnerable, so raw, so open that it catches his breath. The shadow of a smile is tugging at her lips, a fleeting thing.

“I always dreamed of being important to someone. And now that I am, I barely know what to do. How to breathe.”

Jaskier blinks and it takes him a moment to realise that she is talking. Really talking. Sharing a whole new burden, and it makes him smile despite her words.

“Well, if I have any say in this, I’d give you all the time you need to figure that out, hm?”

She huffs then and smiles. “Of course you would. Something also tells me you’re the kind of person who would say he’d wait for ever and then mean it.”

He hums. “That does sound like me, yes.” They’re sharing a smile then, and Jaskier has a feeling that they’re going to be okay.

He remembers her words about stumbling in the dark. About filling a void. And he has a feeling that it would break her just as much if one of them lost the other. A feeling bubbles up inside him, a lightness where before everything was heavy, and rightness where before everything was wrong, and it all rests in his hand where her fingers are laced with his.

He can’t stop himself from saying it then and there, on the cold stone floor, tear tracks on their faces and dark bags under their eyes. “I love you, Yen. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

She swallows. And on her next exhale, it seems like the weight of the world is finally lifted from her shoulders, replaced only with a secret little smile. “Likewise, bardling. No nightmare, no burning fire is strong enough to change that.”

Oh, they are going to be okay.

~

tagging: @cthulhusteve @luteandsword (let me know if you want to be added)