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Geralt hates the way Jaskier dresses.
Alright- That came out wrong- Just like it does every time he tries to bring it up to Jaskier. He's just trying to help, or bring up a reasonable concern, but every time Geralt opens his damn mouth, all it gets him is a hurt look in Jaskier's eyes, and a smile just too big to be truthful.
Geralt doesn't mind the colors. He doesn't mind the lace, or the tulle, or the colors, or the corsets, or the unreasonable amount of buttons and clasps, or the colors. He just doesn't like that there's nothing to the clothing. They don't protect nor warm his bard.
Thus Geralt spends all time away from Jaskier, whether for a week because Jaskier is at some bardic competition, or all winter when Jaskier is at Oxenfort and he is at Kaer Morhen, sewing. He reads book after book after book, and practices, practices, practices.
Geralt will make his bard pretty colorful frilly clothing that also keeps him warm and protected.
Lipstick stained love letters, cups of warm coffee, red splashed everywhere, winter bleeding into Spring, slow evenings by candlelight, dark chocolate and rom-com movie marathons. Early Sunday baking, pyjama days, writing in your diary about your latest crush, romance novel reading, candy hearts and pink skies at dusk ༄₊♡⋆
popping in randomly after almost an entire month just to talk non stop about the tsaritsa again everyone sit down.
specifically just thinking about the implications of tsaritsa's ideals originally being about love + the abandonment of those ideals to complete her goal of, presumably, destroying Celestia or whatever she's cooking up. to the point even her people don't love her and I probably don't even remember a time her ideals were of love. now it's all just ice and snow and cold.
which makes romantic fics w her even funnier because she's purposely removed this part of herself and suddenly reader walks into teyvat like they own the place (they do) and I can only imagine her reaction. angry, probably. because why you? what are you doing to her that's caused her hundreds of years of strict adherence to rejecting "love" both from others and to others to just. collapse. absolute shattering of her world and you probably don't even know it bc if nothing else she's good at hiding it. a lot of denial. tries to pick you apart and see what's makes you so different.
and oh she just hates it. she loathes it.
basically one sided enemies to lover trope because she can't stand you for a while but if you stick around she starts warming up to you and it makes it WORSE. so much worse. tries to distance herself but your just everywhere and it gets on her nerves because why does she love you? she isn't capable of love, not anymore. she thought she was.
g-d forbid one of the harbingers or PIERRO notices she'd never live it down. might even consider the implications of just killing you (she doesnt). worse if you know about it and act like a brat she will lose her damn mind
just the tsaritsa being an absolutely horrible mess internally.
how his presence alone can be almost overwhelming, how his massive body cages you everytime without a chance to escape. you wouldn't dare to try anyway, knowing that you don't even have a say against a creature of his caliber. he will find you. in your dreams, in your nightmares. in your room.
how he will be intense and vague about everything just for the sake of it; to confuse you further, to see the conflict of emotions in your eyes merge with arousal. eventually your hesitance turns into acceptance, a desperate need to feel his hands all over you. and he will be oh so grateful to fulfill that desire.
how his thick tongue pushes past your lips and into your mouth, reaching almost the back of your throat, relishing in the muffled little sounds you make. your drool mixed with his saliva drips down your chin, and your hazy eyes look up at him when he finally pulls away, giving you a second to breathe.
how his hips are slamming into you relentlessly, your wetness and lack of resistance allowing him to move almost effortlessly. forced to hold onto him for dear life instead of pushing away. all of your morals and principles are being tossed out of the window every single time he comes to you. he has you where he wants you, and will not stop until he feels like you can't take it anymore.
and how in the morning he vanishes away, leaving you guessing: was it just another wet dream? but the cold stickiness between your legs tells you more than you need to know.