#guide yennefer

[softersinned-arc]

all i do anymore is think about dragon age astoria and cry. anyway please know that i can do whatever i want with dragon age’s weird fashion and so rather than putting astoria in vaguely medieval-inspired dresses i am taking all my fashion cues from yennefer in witcher, in the show & in the games, just with a little more color. i’ll probably do more posts like this with other sources of inspiration. under the cut for length. some of my favorites —

lots of leather and with a fur trim. her arms and legs are covered. the layers are easy to remove — the fur, the jacket, the gloves — or to add, and the layers offer decent protection if she’s attacked unexpectedly. i like the neutrals here, too, for her — brown and black and white. she’d absolutely wear this while riding.

i love this one for her. she’d wear this around skyhold or amaranthine. again, the layers are easy to remove — the scarf, the gloves — and the leather offers a degree of protection. she likes the off-the-shoulder looks because someone would be able to see at least part of her tattoo on her back, which she got at her hold when she came of age. she also likes wearing crow feathers in her clothing (feathers that have fallen, never kill a bird to get the feathers) because she likes to honor her hold in some small way. i also love how intricate the boots and gloves are here because it’s that additional bit of luxury that she doesn’t need.

heavy black layers with fur she can remove if necessary. she’d have more blue / teal in it, since this is not the sort of thing she’d be wearing while traveling, and it’s clearly meant more for show, so she doesn’t mind shifting away more from the neutrals. lots of leather and brocade and velvet and fur. this is meant to be decorative.

this is good for traveling too and probably something she got at her hold. designed to protect from the cold and the wind. no notes on this one.

this is an amaranthine look. she’d have some highlights of blue or green in this. this is astoria in her day-to-day, when she doesn’t need to worry about getting stabbed at any point. simple, straightforward, but pretty.

another amaranthine look. this one is lighter, the leather and cuff are not necessary, she can move easily. and since this one’s a little fancier, she can wear it ~in polite company~ too. would have accents of blue and green instead of the grey / white.

this is so fucking impractical but she’s hot. yet another amaranthine look, but one she’d bring to skyhold, too. this one she’d keep in all black. honestly i have nothing to say about this except that it’s gorgeous and astoria would look really hot in this.

#i. that red lipped classic thing that you like. ( aesthetic ) #i. she had a marvelous time ruining everything. ( about ) #(god this was fun) #(i'm probably gonna do this for a few GOT costumes too) #(i really really love these ugh but number two is her favorite and my favorite) #(those first two actually get the most use) #(just. hot. dragon age costume design take notes: yennefer can & should always be your guide.)

[prythianpages]

ACOSM | The Night her Father found out her secret

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: angst, mentions of violence, blood, dead bodies

summary: the High Lord of the Night Court discovers his daughter's little secret. He does not take her sneaking off to train with the Valkyries lightly and decides to punish her for it.

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here. I'm currently watching The Witcher and Yennefer is my fav character. the fact that she has purple eyes reminded me of Rhysand's sister so now I can't help but picture her as Val, hence me using her in one of the pics above.

**

The air buzzed with anticipation as they circled each other, eyes locked in fierce determination. Zeila, a seasoned Valkyrie instructor, initiated the first strike. Valeria, her dark membranous wings stretching proudly, deftly parried. Their blades danced in a symphony of skill and grace.

Despite Zeila’s experience, Valeria’s proved a formidable force. A quick succession of well-executed maneuvers caught Zeila off guard. Her sword fell from her grasps clattering to the ground but the warrior did not falter. With a grin, she unsheathed her daggers and Valeria did the same, throwing her sword to the floor.

They danced around each other, eyes sharp and focused. It was Valeria who threw the first strike, lunging forward with precision. She was at a disadvantage as she only had one dagger and Zeila two but she did not let this deter her. Zeila countered swiftly, her dagger slicing through the air grazing Valeria’s leathers, drawing a hiss of pain as it left a shallow cut on her arm. Undeterred, Valeria pressed on. Her keen eyes assessed Zeila’s movements, searching for an opening. When she found one, she disarmed her instructor in a swift maneuver. Before Zeila could react, Valeria had her backed against the training ground’s boundary, dagger gently pressed against her mentor’s throat.

A hushed pause settled over the training grounds as the surrounding Valkyries assessed the situation. Zeila’s eyes gleamed with pride rather than disappointment as she bore witness to Valeria’s skills and dedication that shined as bright as the full moon above them. She grinned. “Well done, Valeria.”

Valeria, panting but radiant, lowered her weapon in disbelief. The realization of her victory, not just in the spar but in the eyes of her instructor, overwhelmed her with a whirlwind of emotions. The look Zeila was giving her was one she had previously yearned to find within her father.

 Zeila had taken her under her wing, not caring that she was the High Lord’s daughter. She saw her as Valeria, a girl with a determined and unwavering spirit. She understood that Valeria’s path to training was not a smooth one, given the tempest of her fate as a high fae. So Zeila devoted every opportunity to guide her and it was through her and the other Valkyrie’s relentless support that Valeria transformed. She, who once faced the storm, had become the storm itself. This training session was more than a physical exercise. It was a moment of growth and validation of all the years Valeria trained.

“Looks like someone brought you a gift.”

Valeria turned around, her gaze finding Tanwyn and some of her other Valkyrie friends. Her heart swelled at the small pastry, a lemon cake, in Tanwyn’s hand that was topped with two lit candles. One for each decade of her life. “Happy late birthday,” Tanwyn smiled.

“Thank you.” Valeria’s own lips curled up into a smile as she took the pastry into her hands. Noctis, who had been persistent in accompanying her tonight, squeaked in delight and returned to her shoulder.

Valeria pursed her lips, preparing to blow the candles but there was a sudden gust of wind. She watched as the flames died out, eyes widening in horror as a familiar cloud of darkness began to engulf the training grounds. It wrapped them in its cold embrace, prompting all Valkyries to draw out their weapons, senses on high alert.

There was a thundering sound and in the blink of an eye, a figure appeared that had the blood draining from Valeria’s face. Both her wings and Noctis’s began to quiver.

It was her father. He had found her.

**

The Night Court’s throne room was bathed in twilight. Tall, obsidian pillars, adorned with intricate carvings of celestial motifs, reached toward the vaulted ceiling. As Rhysand walked through the vast room, he couldn’t help but notice the delicate mist that hung in the air.

He came to a halt upon the dais, where his father sat upon his throne.

“Ah, Rhysand.” The High Lord greeted with a smirk, his violet eyes flickered with an emotion Rhysand couldn’t quite place. “My son.”

“You called for me?”

“Yes.” His father replied. “I was hoping Valeria would be with you.”

Rhysand frowned. He rarely ever asked about his sister’s whereabouts. “She’s with Cassian. They’re shopping for the upcoming Starfall.”

“Interesting.” His father said with a hum. He inclined his head slightly to his left and in that subtle motion, the air seemed to dance with translucent waves. As the glamor fell apart, a crestfallen Cassian came into view. “Cassian was just telling me how Valeria was at the library with Azriel.”

He then gestured his head to his right and from the shadows emerged Azriel, maintaining an unwavering composure that echoed stoicism. “But he has been with me all day.”

Rhysand shrugged yet the discerning gaze in his eyes subtly revealed a crack in his normally composed facade–a fleeting trace of concern. His powers reached out toward his friends and they let him in their minds, allowing him access to their thoughts. They mirrored his concerns but neither of them knew of Valeria’s whereabouts.

 “Perhaps she is with Mor then.”

“Morrigan is in Velaris alone.”

“Then Mother–”

“Your mother has been in her room, working on dresses for Starfall. Also alone.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows furrowed and a surge of panic quickened his heartbeat. His hands instinctively folded together in front of him. “So where is Valeria?”

“I’ll tell you where she was.” The High Lord’s voice rang taut and rough and it was then that Rhysand recognized the look in his eyes. It was one of pure rage. “She was with the Valkyries.”

An eerie silence filled the throne room. Rhysand’s eyes were wide and he turned to his friends. Azriel remained stoic but there was an icy rage lurking within his eyes and Cassian’s fists were clenched at his sides as he glared at the High Lord. There was another haunting realization.

“Oh, you didn’t know either?” The High Lord’s voice carried a taunting tone, accompanied by an almost amused expression that played across his features. “Your little sister was sneaking off to train as if she were a Valkyrie herself.”

After another moment of silence, the High Lord spoke again. “Would you like to know where your sister is now?”

Rhysand’s throat tightened. “Where?”

The High Lord leaned back into his throne with a malevolent smirk that sent shivers down Rhysand’s spine. “Learning a very much needed lesson in Windhaven.”

As if following an otherworldly cue, the ground beneath them quivered and the mountains themselves seemed to shift. A low chuckle escaped the High Lord, his eyes gleaming in the face of such an overwhelming power, failing to recognize that it was not Rhysand who had made the Night Court tremble.

**

Valeria’s ears were ringing and her breath hitched at the sight of five heavily armed Illyrian males surrounding her. Her wings were taut, one of them curling inwards over Noctis, her dear bird. She had no weapons herself. Her dagger had fallen from her grasp at the Valkyrie’s training grounds and she didn’t have enough time to reach for it before her father had roughly grabbed her and winnowed them to Windhaven.

“You want to be a warrior?” Her father had seethed into her ear. “Go ahead then.”

He had pushed her to the ground in front of the hungry and malicious Illyrian males. “Have at her. This one needs to learn her place.” He had said before winnowing away.

She rose to her feet, eyeing each of them. She recognized one of them. He was the only one among them that bore no siphons. His eyes were cold and spiteful as ever. Mallory’s father.

This would not be a fair fight. She was outnumbered and unarmed but she refused to let the fear that surged through her body surface. She would not yield to it. She turned her head toward the bird on her shoulder, her eyes were pleading. Go. Noctis blinked back at her, his dark eyes twinkling with defiance. He refused to leave her side.

Mallory’s father was the first to step forward, a wicked smirk etched onto his face. The blade in his hand gleamed as it was directed toward her. “You thought yourself untouchable because you were the High Lord’s daughter but it is he who brought you to us. It’s going to be fun breaking you.”

“Let’s start with her wings.”

The one who last spoke was the one who lunged at her first. She dodged his strike with ease and grace and then kicked him, sending him crashing into one of the other Illyrian males.

“You will not take my wings from me.” Valeria snarled as she tucked her wings behind her and stepped into a defensive stance–one she learned from Cassian.

Mallory’s father chuckled. “You’re outnumbered.”

The four Illyrian males lunged at her, their siphons glowing. She punched, kicked and threw tendrils of silver light their way. Noctis flew from her shoulders, his beak piercing and pricking at their eyes to allow Valeria the upper hand. She didn’t scream as blades pierced her skin, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing her pain. 

Valeria managed to steal a dagger from one of them and swept it across his chest, sending the Illyrian male staggering backwards. “You bitch,” he growled before lunging for her again.

Distracted by the bleeding male before her, she didn’t catch the nod the two males approaching from behind her shared. She found herself pinned to the ground before she could even react properly. She squirmed and fought against their hold until a third male came from behind. One of them grasped her hair and yanked her head up, forcing her to look up at Mallory’s father.

Noctis let out a croak in warning as Mallory’s father approached her, flaring out his wings as he perched himself on her shoulder again.

“How embarrassing it must be.” Valeria choked out, blood trickling from her mouth. “To know that it takes three strong Illyrians, siphons and all, to hold me down.”

When the fingers digging into her pierced into her skin and Mallory’s father’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, she almost grinned.

“Do it now.”

She heard it before she felt it.

 The haunting sound of a blade slicing through her wing. The blade drew back and it was then that the fear within her surfaced for a fleeting moment as she watched Noctis fall from her shoulder. He fell to the ground silently, blood trickling from the gaping wound at his throat. Her own blood began to splatter on the ground beside him from the wound in her wing.

She could not bring herself to cry or scream. She could not afford to at the moment so with an unwavering determination, she pushed all her grief and hurt away until only one feeling remained. Anger.

Her father thought her to be weak. He had taunted her, believing that she could not withstand the storm of Illyrian rage. But he had forgotten that she was a half breed. Illyrian blood coursed through her veins too. She would not fall victim to this storm. She would not falter. She would not yield.

She looked up, past Mallory’s father, at the night sky above them. The moon was full and shining brightly. It seemed to cast its ethereal glow upon her, sparking a feeling she had never felt before. Thirst for revenge. For blood.

The moonstone wrapped around her neck glowed intensely and her pupils flared, capturing the reflection of the full moon within their depths. 

There was a scream and then the hold on her was faltering. She took advantage of it, pushing the three Illyrians away from her. She swore the ground beneath her trembled as she rose to her feet, gaze fixed on Mallory’s father.

Tendrils of pure and raging moonlight were snaking around him. They wrapped around his legs, his arms, his neck. They were burning and suffocating, clinging onto him as they anxiously awaited their master’s next orders.

“Witch.” She heard one of the males hiss under his breath.

Valeria allowed her silver tendrils to continue as her powers surged through her veins. She had never felt them like this before. So strong, so intense. It almost scared her to know what had been lurking within her.

The tendrils began to move over Mallory’s father. The ones at his neck snaked up and slithered into his parted mouth. She could see them glow from within him and she watched as he fell to the ground. Screams of agony escaped from the male as more of her light flooded into his mouth. He writhed on the ground while the other males froze in terror.

Mallory’s father fell silent and still as the tendrils of light that had swarmed into him were now surging out from his mouth and eyes. They rushed back to Valeria, slithering up her arms and she was surprised to find that they were warm and loving. 

She turned to the remaining males with a wicked gleam in her violet eyes. Her silver tendrils were radiating from her glowing body. The male who had sliced through her wing and killed Noctis was the first to drop his weapon and run.

“Where are you going?” She called out, taunting him. “I was just getting started.”

Her silver tendrils whirled after him and Valeria took delight in the way they wrapped around the male’s ankles and yanked, forcing him to the ground. They dragged his screaming body until he was laying at her feet with such force that the rocky ground beneath cut through his leathers and pricked his skin. One of her silver tendrils brought forth the male’s weapon and Valeria took the dagger into her own hands with a thankful smile before hurling it toward the male and silencing him, the dagger tearing into his throat just as he had done to Noctis.

The remaining males growled at her, their siphons glowing so bright that they burst as they rushed at her, unaware of the beast they had unleashed within Valeria. She brought them all down one by one, using both the dagger and her powers. 

When the last male had dropped to the ground, her knees gave out and it was only then that she released the scream that had been lingering in her throat.

**

Azriel’s heart was at his throat. He could feel everything she was feeling. He reached out toward that golden thread–that connection between him and Valeria–but he could not get a hold of her. He couldn’t reassure her as he did before. All he could do was feel her pain, her hurt and it drove him insane.

He desperately clung to that fine thread, urging it to lead him to where she was as he landed in Windhaven with Cassian and Rhysand by his side. His shadows were rushing from his side, diffusing into the chilling night.

“She’s close.” Azriel said as his shadows picked up on her scent. “The training grounds.”

A sudden, piercing scream followed his words. Its abruptness resonated through the cold Windhaven air, making their skins crawl and Azriel’s blood run cold. Valeria, Azriel’s shadows screamed in his ears.

**

A chilling and terrifying scene was before them. Five Illyrian males were strewn across the training grounds, their mouths agape–a telltale sign that they had died screaming. The scent of burnt flesh was strong and Rhysand’s eyes darted around them in fright. They all had matching injuries with the exception of one. Blood was seeping from their eyes and mouths and their exposed skin was marred by burnt marks while the one exception had bled out from a gaping wound at his throat.

“Valeria.” Rhysand breathed as he spotted her.

She was in the center of the dead males, hunched over on the ground as she hurled, her chest heaving. Her body was glowing so bright that Rhysand had to squint his eyes. He rushed toward her, dropping to the ground besides her as he heard Azriel and Cassian arrive.

Azriel’s shadows darted toward her, desperate to assess her injuries–to know how badly she had been harmed. His shadows were able to break through her protective light and Azriel’s knees nearly gave out as they returned to him and curled against his ear. Cassian’s eyes were wide and he moved to confirm that each of the males who had hurt her were dead.

“I didn’t mean to kill them all. I just wanted to hurt them, to scare them away but then something came over me.” Valeria’s voice was shaky and frantic as she sobbed. “They wanted to–my wings–Noctis–they–”

Rhysand let out a curse as he spotted the dead carcass of her beloved bird, his heart breaking at the sight. His touch was gentle and soothing despite the rage he felt within as he held her head in his hands, bringing her fearful gaze to his.

“Father–he brought me here–he wanted to–I was–I'm so sorry–I only wanted to–”

"Shh, it's okay."

Valeria’s cries and broken voice were soul-crushing. Azriel’s body was shaking and his wings prepared to take flight but Cassian, who sensed his intent, was stopping him. With a firm grip, he led Azriel to where Valeria and Rhysand were kneeled on the floor instead.

Rhysand’s eyes bore into Valeria’s. “You’re safe now.”

Valeria’s eyes continued to dart around her, her breathing ragged and uneven. Her tears blurred her vision but she could still make out the silhouettes of the dead bodies. She had killed them. All five of them. 

“You’re safe now.” Rhysand repeated, pulling her trembling body into his arms. He rested his hand on the back of her head, pressing it to his chest to keep her from looking at the scene around them. “It’s alright.”

Yet the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed his words and as he locked gazes with Cassian and Azriel, he found that a shared sentiment of unease painted their expressions. This was the night the High Lord unwittingly forged three formidable enemies.

**

A/N: after writing this I feel kind of bad for making rhysand's dad so evil but I don't want to defend him at all in this au bc he's an asshole. anyway, it was kind of fun writing Val's powers and also her Illyrian urge to kill awakening in her. sorry there wasn't much Az x Val interactions. just one more imagine and we're done with the collection of Val's early life. I don't have the name up for it yet bc I wanted it to be a little bit of surprise but any guesses as to what the theme will be? 👀 i've left subtle hints lol

tag list:  @justrepostandlove , @kemillyfreitas, @thelov3lybookworm

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar angst #azriel angst #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand's sister #azriel x rhysand's sister #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x oc #rhysand imagine #cassian x reader #cassian imagine #acosm

[write-ur-wrongs]

Stayaway

In an attempt to get out of funk, here is a very short, not edited, written-directly-into-tumblr, song-inspired grealt x reader fic. Inspired by Stayaway by MUNA (the best band in the world, begging y'all to listen to their music you will be forever changed!!).

*********

"Come on! I know you're home, I followed you!"

The bard was yelling and banging on your door incessantly and you knew you had to answer eventually. The bastard followed you home after all, he knows where you live.

"I'm not home!" you shouted back, delusional.

"Y/N! I may be a fool but I'm not stupid," he replied, and you could hear the familiar smile pulling at his lips, "Now open up! The door and your heart!"

"Jask," you sighed, laughing despite yourself at his poetic antics, "go away!"

"No! I miss you!"

"I'm not home!" you tried again, will wavering.

"Y/N!" he pleaded, and you swore you could hear half that cursed smile pull down into a pout.

You rested your forehead against the door and bit your lip, debating. All the while, your hand betrayed you, reached for the doorknob and turned it open.

Before you knew it, you were face to face with an old friend and while the sight of him filled you with joy, you were also flooded with other, less welcome feelings of remembrance.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, pushing himself into your home and saving you from dwelling on the heavy memories that tried to creep up over you. "You're home, what are the odds?"

"Hilarious as always, Jaskier," you said, closing the door behind him. "What brings you to my little hamlet?"

"Fate, chance, what have you," he said, his cheery demeanor working overtime to cover for his abject curiosity, "The sea called and I had to answer. You know how it is."

"I do, do I?"

"Don't you? I mean you just disappeared... I assumed something called and you, you know, answered?" His tone stayed light, the practiced levity of someone who's spent years buttering people up for information all while staying neutral.

"I guess..." you bit your cheek, busying yourself by playing hostess, and pouring you both a glass of wine, "things changed and I thought, 'hell, why not change too?'"

"Fair enough... oh thank you."

"Of course," you said, taking a sip of wine yourself before guiding you both towards your couch, "but seriously Jaskier, why are you here?"

"Seriously? I was just passing through on my way to Oxenfurt when I saw a familiar face. A face I thought I'd never see again..."

You looked up from your glass then, but immediately regretted it when you met the bard's earnest gaze.

"Yennefer thought she saw you in Novigrad a while back but then... nothing. We thought you were gone for good."

"Jaskier, come on," you pleaded, praying he wouldn't elaborate on who 'we' entailed, while another, less disciplined part of you hoped for the opposite. Maybe if you knew he missed you, maybe if you knew he was looking for you... maybe you could let yourself be found.

No!

"Don't shake your head at me, Y/N. You disappear from the city, you quit your job, no one has seen you at the pub, the library - anywhere!"

"I- I know... but Jask," you stammered, trying to start three sentences at once and fumbling them all.

"I mean, you loved your job, didn't you? And what about us?" he asked, voice cracking slightly. "Gods, was the breakup that bad?"

"The thing is, Jask," you sputtered between large sips of wine, "It wasn't. It was easy, actually. He did what he always does when we fight; scowl, shut down, turn away, and then take it out on our friends. The break was clean."

"If it was so clean, then why did you leave?"

"It's the rest of it! The, the staying away that was, is impossible. If I had stayed and kept going it out with you guys, we'd drink and dance and I'd wonder where he is. Or one moment I'd be at the library studying and the next, Yen be asking me about the breakup and trying to 'cheer' me up by bringing up the good times and next thing you know? I'm answering the door for him when he rolls back into town injured and brooding. I couldn't stand it! I- I couldn't risk it."

"That's -"

"Pathetic? I know."

"No! No, but if there were so many good times, so many reasons to go back then why not-"

"Damn it, Jaskier! This is why I had to leave." You said, gesturing between the two of you before dropping your hand on your lap with a smack. "If I let him back in, then he's not the man who broke my heart anymore. Not the one who told me I was overemotional for being worried when he'd disappear for months. Suddenly everything is fine... until it's not and I'm hurt and alone again."

You felt tears begin to prick the back of your eyes and shoved the heel of your palms into them to force them down.

"Hey... Y/N," Jaskier said, gently pulling your hands away from your eyes and taking them in his. "I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

"It's okay," you said, giving your friends hands a squeeze and looking up to the ceiling, letting your tears fall for a moment, "I'm okay."

"Y/N..."

"Oh alright, but I'll be okay," you amended, laughing at yourself lightly and wiping the tears away. "Jaskier, don't look so sad. I just need time, space, distance... I will be fine."

Your words had little effect on your friend though, who seemed to grow more anxious and sad with every passing moment. You quirked your brow at him and shoved his shoulder playfully, trying to break the mood.

"Jaskier, will you relax?" you asked, desperate to get him to smile now. You really had missed Jaskier and now that he was here, you realized how much you wanted him to stick around.

"Y/N, I'm really sorry." He whispered, refusing to meet your gaze.

You were about to try another lighthearted quip when you heard a knock at your door. Not someone knocking, just a knock. One quick but deliberate rap.

"Who...?" you heard yourself asking, even though you only ever knew one person who knocked on doors like that.

"Y/N, I'm so so sorry," Jaskier kept repeating. "I really didn't know. I never would have told him if I'd known."

Your mouth was bone dry but you couldn't get your hand to reach for your glass of wine. You just kept staring at Jaskier, watching him babble.

"I'll go tell him to leave, Y/N, I'm so sorry," you heard him say, his voice barely registering over the ringing in your ears.

You felt him get up off the couch, your blurred vision registering the now empty spot on the couch only after you heard your door be pulled open.

Every fiber of your being was on fire. You were frozen. You wanted to throw yourself on the floor. You wanted to run to him.

"Y/N..." you heard him say. Fuck he sounded sad. You wanted to hold him, tell him it'll be okay. You wanted to slam the door in his face. You forgive him. You'll never forgive yourself.

Against your better judgement, you felt yourself to turn look towards the front door and your breath caught when you saw him.

Gods above, you thought, he should have stayed away.

#geralt of rivia #the witcher netflix #geralt x reader #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher series #the witcher x reader #witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #muna #song fic #one shot #angst #jaskier fanfic #dandelion

[ultimateshixiongfuckertournament]

Noncanonicals Tournament Round 1, Match 2

Match 2 is between Yennefer of Vengerberg from The Witcher (shizun/mentor: Tissaia de Vries) and Fang Duobing from Mysterious Lotus Casebook (shizun/mentor: Li Xiangyi / Li Lianhua)

Propaganda under the cut! (Warning: Propaganda may include spoilers about the characters and their media)

Yennefer of Vengerberg:

A love/hate relationship where the love and hate are equally strong. Yenn clearly so wanted to fuck Tissaia, and she was so mad about it.

Fang Duobing:

Fang Duobing has most definitely had several fantasies of being dommed by his shifu Li Xiangyi! He is also equally invested in marrying Li Lianhua - travelling the jianghu, going on rooftop moonlit dates, incorporating looking after him forever and ever into his general future plans. This is even before he knows that Li Lianhua and Li Xiangyi are the same person. Oh there are Layers to the shizunfucking. Where's that post about being so devoted to someone that it breaks the pedestal they're put on and comes full circle to loving them for the person they are? (its here: https://www.tumblr.com/difeisheng/733133489565745152/the-core-of-fanghua-is-built-around-fang-duobings) When they finally do get to know each other 10 years later, after Li Xiangyi's identity is found out, Fang Duobing insists on being equals rather than master-and-disciple! Li lianhua is Fang Duobing’s guide in the Jianghu! He leaves his house, dog and the only records of his unique martial arts to Fang Duobing before running away!! Fang Duobing’s most important agenda is to save Li Lianhua from slow death by poison!!! He doesn't care if Li Lianhua keeps leaving him behind and lying to him and is 'at peace' with dying!! They live together. They'll never be equals. They've been equals all along. They're zhiji. They're master and disciple. they're married. They're everything.

#yennefer of vengerberg #fang duobing #the witcher #mysterious lotus casebook #tissaia de vries #li lianhua #li xiangyi

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

hey. hey hey hey hey. jaskier being alone with yennefer for a moment after some shit goes down with someone attacking the destiny family but he's trying to act like everything's okay bc there's more Important things to focus on like protecting ciri but. He won't face her to speak to him. And she won't have it bc of course not. so she gets in front of him. or she guides him into turnig around. or she just plainly tells him "Look at me." In a voice that albeit gentle leaves no room for arguement. anyway. he does. he does turn around. or maybe she's the one to move to get in front of him. anyway. she sees him. she sees him on purpose. she sees him.

and she sees the eyeliner running down his cheeks because he can't stop crying :)

#its 3:30 am and my brain rotted a bit goodnight #yennefer #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #yennefer of vengerberg #he has eyeliner and im making it everyones problem #mine #the witcher #witcher #yennskier

[thedemonofcat]

During an unusually lengthy winter at Kaer Morhen, they decided to host an Easter egg hunt, resulting in the most fiercely competitive hunt ever witnessed.

Lambert and Eskel engaged in intense fistfights over coveted eggs, while Aiden and Coen sprinted with fervor to claim them first.

Yennefer relied on her magic to summon eggs to her, while Ciri utilized the opportunity to hone her tracking skills, cunningly pilfering others' baskets.

Geralt took it upon himself to guide Jaskier to the eggs, as the bard grew despondent over his inability to find any.

Vesemir, the instigator, found himself somewhat regretting the chaos he had initiated.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt of rivia #joey batey #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #anya chalotra #the witcher aiden #the witcher eskel #witcher coen #the witcher lambert #papa vesemir

[rubysunnday]

Someone asked me for my gif colouring tutorial - this is a day I have been waiting for.

I’ll start by saying that there is no right or wrong way to colour gifs. It’s entirely dependent on the show, scene, character and the giffer. Over the years I’ve followed many gif tutorials (I’ll link my favourites at the end) and I think I’ve finally settled on a colouring routine (?) that works for any gif. 

This tutorial presumes you have a basic understanding of how to make a gif and that you know how Photoshop works. I use Photoshop 2024 so things might differ depending on what version you have.

Shall we begin?

First thing I do once I’ve cropped, made my gif and sharpened it is to adjust the curves. 

I always set the white point and the black point using the eyedropper tool. This adjusts both the brightness but also the RGB layers (red, green and blue) and begins colour-correcting the gif. 

I then do another curves layer and I use the auto-correct curves button. This automatically adjusts the curves and brightens the entire gif. 

Once I’ve done my curves I move on to the levels. I increase the black point (the first little arrow as you look at it) and the grey point (the middle arrow). The black point deepens the darker areas of the gif. The grey point can either brighten the grey areas or darken them - I tend to brighten them.

Then I adjust the brightness and contrast to make the whole thing brighter and deepen the colours. 

The channel mixer is a new discovery I made (I didn’t make it, I just found a tutorial that did). It helps to colour-correct the gif and make it less orange/blue etc. If you’ve seen Shadow and Bone (namely season one) you know how green and orange some of it is. This layer helps to combat that and make it a more natural colour. 

For this gif, because it was all a bit yellow/orange, I decreased the reds and greens and increased the blues. I only go up or down by one or two - if you go too much in one direction or the other it’ll begin to change the colour of the entire gif rather than subtly correct it.

To colour-correct a bit more I use the colour balance layer. Again, I decrease the red and increase the blue. I tend to stick to going up in fives on this layer. +/- five tends to do what I need it to regarding colouring. 

And finally I adjust the vibrance by five or ten just to make the entire gif pop that bit more.

Here's the gif before and after!

It's made a huge difference and made the entire gif seem a lot brighter and less yellow.

And just to prove it works no matter what - the left side has been coloured the right hasn't. The difference is noticeable, especially on Yennefer.

Tada, colouring tutorial! Whilst the numbers vary from gif to gif the order and layers used remain the same. 

Here are some useful links to other tutorials. These are like my bible and I swear by them! 

Gifmaking for beginners by @hayaosmiyazaki (the holy grail of tutorials for me)

Gif Making Guide for Beginners by @saw-x

And this tutorial by @aubrey-plaza goes into more detail about the channel mixer and how it actually works!

Any questions don’t be afraid to ask :)

#gif tutorial #gif #userlottie #userdavid

[yennefer-x-tissaia]

Vulture interview excerpt

Before we learn that Yennefer’s mentor Tissaia takes her own life, the two have a final conversation about what they’ve given up because of chaos and reflect on their relationship built on shared pain. Can you talk about filming that last scene with MyAnna Buring?

I knew we were coming to that. This was the most important part of season three for me: this relationship and it coming to an end as it does. In that ending, Yennefer is fully able to step into a position of responsibility. She’s always relied on Tissaia. That’s been her beacon, her guiding light for so long, and now she has to travel in those footsteps and own all the life lessons Tissaia taught her.

MyAnna means so much to me. She was there day one. I’d spend time with her family in Budapest. She looked after me in season one, and has through the seasons — not only me, but everyone on set. She gives so much. That loss is huge for the show and huge for Yennefer.

#anya chalotra #myanna buring #yennaia #interview #article #the witcher spoilers #season 3 spoilers

[starfirewildheart]

The Wolf and the Flame

Summary:

sex, first time, tender, loving, hot, sex, be warned.

Chapter 10

Geralt and Naurel made their way back to the keep stopping along the way to kiss and tease each other. Once inside he took her hand and was about to start up the stairs when Vesemir put his hand on his chest stopping him. “You need to talk to Eskel, wolf, and work out the problem. I don’t know why the tension is there but it will only fester if it’s not addressed.”

Geralt did not want to have this conversation right now but respected Vesemir enough to listen. “I will try again but he…” Vesemir cut him off, holding a finger up in warning.

“I will tell you just like I told him. I am giving you one more chance to fix this yourselves but one more fight and I will bend you over the table in the dining hall and tan your hides just like when you were kids.”

Geralt could feel the heat in his face as a stunned embarrassment washed over him momentarily but he quickly composed himself. “I will try, I promise.”

Vesemir put a hand on Geralt’s should and smiled as he glanced at Naurel, whose hand was still clasped in Geralt’s then looked back at his charge. “You can do it later. Go,” he nodded his head to the stairs laughing when the two took off like teenagers.

Naurel was laughing by the time Geralt pulled her into his room only stopping when he kissed her. He pulled her cloak off and tossed it aside and did the same with his own without breaking the kiss. They swayed together like they were dancing until his hips came to rest against his small dresser. He sat back against the top of it and pulled her between his thighs as he reached for the buttons on her shirt. Her heartbeat was faster than a hummingbird and he could feel her trembling so he pulled back to look down at her. “Are you ok? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head but couldn’t look him in the eye. She was scared and didn’t know if she could tell him because she felt so stupid. “I want to, believe me. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

He pondered her words and how they didn’t mesh with her actions and came to a conclusion. “You’re afraid I will hurt you. Of course, it makes sense because I’m a witcher and I’m strong but I promise I will be easy with you. I will watch my strength when I hold you and..”

“Geralt, no.” She stepped back between his thighs and cupped his face in her hands. “I’m not afraid of you. I know that you would never hurt me and I trust you completely.”

The fact that she said those words with such surety made his heart quiver. “Then what's wrong?”

“I.. you…” she really wanted the floor to open up and swallow her right now.

“You can tell me anything, my love.”

“You’ve been with Yennefer and Triss and I’m sure a lot of others.”

“That was in the past. I love you and only you,” he reassured her.

She reached out and gripped in carefully, looking up at him through her lashes when he gasped. His eyes were lidded and glazed with desire and it spurred her on. Her experimental stroke was gentle and guarded not wanting to hurt him but he had other ideas. His large hand closed over hers adjusting the grip of her hand to a much firmer hold than she thought he’d like then he guided both their hands up and down the hard shaft. The veins below the skin felt like small ridges to her palm and on each downstroke, the wet, pink tip peeked out of the top. Something in her just had to know how it tasted so she gave the tip a small kitten lick. The moan he let out sounded heavenly and she wanted to hear it more.

Geralt forced himself to stay as still as a statue while she explored his body. He didn’t want to scare her and was trying to be patient and give her time to learn him. That was a task that was getting harder and harder by the second, literally. When he felt her tongue against his head he couldn’t hold back the moan and he nearly lost it when she looked up at him from between his legs. It was a sight he’d never get enough of. He had to grip the edge of the dresser when her mouth closed over him and she started sucking. Her tongue curled around his girth and sent a chill up his spine and a flame in his belly as she started moving her head. When she gently cupped his balls and rolled them in her hand he heard the wood of the dresser creek from his grip. “Fuck!”

Naurel continued sucking him getting brave enough to go deeper and deeper until she gagged herself. Making yourself puke on your lover was not in her planes so she adjust her depth and was quite enjoying her task. It wasn’t until she heard the wood of the dresser almost splinter that she paused and looked up at him, cock still in her mouth, in question.

“Fuck,” he moaned again at the sight and grabbed a handful of her hair in his right hand to anchor himself. “Don’t stop,” he urged. He was so worked up from all the sexual tension all this time that he was so close that he knew it would be better to go ahead and cum than he could take his time with her. His witcher libido never failed him. He’d be hard again in no time. It took all his strength not to give in and just fuck her mouth but it wasn’t long until he felt the coil in his belly and his balls start to tighten. Giving a gentle tug on her hair he panted, “going to cum” in warning. She didn’t stop and that was somehow even hotter. One last suck and he was shooting his seed in her mouth was a loud moan.

Naurel swallowed the bitter seed and continued sucking spurred on by the sounds he was making but they suddenly started to sound more pained than pleasurable so she let him slip from her mouth. The sight she was greeted with was the hottest thing she’d ever seen in her life and made her moan. Geralt, panting and boneless looking more relaxed than she’d ever seen anyone was a Geralt she needed more of. Getting to her feet she pulled him into a hug kissing his neck lazily while he recovered. It only took a few minutes before his grip on her tightened and he stood, spinning them so that she was now sitting on the dresser.

“You are amazing.” He grinned as he pressed his forehead to hers before kissing down her cheek and whispering, “My turn.” He kissed every inch of her skin as he bared it before standing back and admiring her for a moment. He held his hand out to her helping her down and then carrying her over to the bed. Once he laid her on the soft blanket he lowered himself over her. Kissing down her body he laved each breast sucking and teasing her nipples until she was breathless. He loved the way her body arched as he continued moving lower pressing kisses everywhere. Taking his hand he repositioned her legs so that they were spread and kissed the inside of each thigh,

Naurel had a sudden realization of what he was about to do and she quickly snapped her knees together causing him to move his head out of the way. “Umm, what are you doing?”

He grinned, “experiencing. Relax love,” he soothed and pushed at her legs again,

“Umm experiencing with your mouth,,,there?”

“Yes, if you will relax long enough. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“But umm…” she blushed wildly and gestured with her hands. “It’s umm all…”

“Wet?” He laughed when she blushed even redder. “I intend to keep it that way from now on. Wet and slick with your desire for me, ready to take me whenever the mood strikes,” he rumbled before delving between her legs and lapping at her folds.

She wanted to argue, to push his head away but his tongue was doing things that made her buck up against his face instead. His low humm of approval vibrated against that same spot and she couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out. Her legs seemed to have spread wider and lifted up of their own accord and Geralt took it as a good sign because soon she felt his blunt fingers joining his tongue. When the first finger slid into her it set off a sensation she’d never felt before. Everything seemed to drive her need to be filled, to get more touch, pressure, anything! She was a writhing mess by the time he had worked her up to three fingers and that burning coil of pleasure low in her body was taking on an entirely new feeling. It was like waves against the beach sending shock aftershock of pleasure through her as her body spasmed. “Geralt!”

By the time she clenched around him and coated his fingers in her release he was hard and dripping again as he pressed himself against the blanket for some friction. Once he’d coaxed her through her first orgasm he climbed back up her body. “I love it when you say my name like that.”

“That was…” she was breathless.

“Nothing yet,” he smirked and rubbed his hard cock between her wet pussy. “You ready love?”

“Please,” she rasped.

The slide in was wonderful. Sensations were on overdrive and she was so tight against him that he had to stop a few times so he wouldn’t cum. He kept kissing her and using his other hand to tease her nipples as he pressed forward but by the time he was fully seated the moaned gasps had turned into whimpers. “Shh love, that’s it. You’re taking it so good for me, So fucking tight around me,” he moaned as he reached between them and thumbed her clit.

It was a painful sting deep inside her as Geralt continued to fill her beyond capacity. She could feel him touching things deep inside her that nothing or no one had ever explored before and she wanted more but it hurt enough that she didn’t know if she could. By the time she felt his balls touch below where he filled her she was softly punching at his shoulder almost ready to tell him to stop but then he touched her clit again and it caused her hips to buck. The sensation was one she needed more of so she bit her lip and took a deep breath. “Geralt, please.”

“Please what, love?”

Her eyes flew open and the raw, powerful look in his eyes told her he was barely hanging on as well. “Please, fuck me.”

He growled and pulled her right leg over his hip so that she opened up more then pulled his hips back slowly before pushing forward again. Her moans urged him on but when her hips started raising to meet his Geralt knew he was about to cum. Wanting to be sure she came with him he reached between them and started rubbing circles over that bundle of nerves. She was so far gone that it only took a few times before she was cumming again soaking his cock with her release. Her body squeezed him impossibly tight and shuddered around him and with a few stuttered thrusts he came deep inside her as he bit the junction between her neck and shoulder with a growl. They stayed wrapped up together, kissing as they came down from their highs before he carefully pulled out and laid down next to her. He pulled her so that she was pressed to his side with her head resting on his chest. “Did I hurt you?”

“Never,” she panted as she looked up at him. “I love you Geralt.”

“I love you too, kitten,” he beamed.

“We are going to do this lots,” she informed him.

“Humm,” he smiled as his eyes got heavy.

Wolf and flame tag list

@kneelforloki

@shellyshellshell

@warriormirkwood

@mollymal

@secretdreamlandmentality

@salvawhxres

@dizzybee03

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #witcher fanfiction #the witcher netflix #the witcher

[kiritella]

Series: Sehnsucht, Chapter Four: Something More

Pairings: Geralt x Teen!Reader, Yennefer x Teen!Reader

Warnings: low self worth,

Words: 3.6k

————————

—Four Years Ago—

“You’ve gotten more powerful, but it has slowed you down,” Eret’s clear voice broke through the air. “You need to have confidence in your strikes.”

She huffed as she tossed him a glare, pointing the tip of her sword in his direction sharply before repositioning her feet and doing the striking sequence again. This time, she struck the wood firmly. 

Eret laughed, a smirk playing on the edges of his lips as he leaned against a boulder. The noise of the camp resonated in the background. She grunted. 

“Alright! You’re confident, but your confidence lacks commitment. Do it again.”

Stubbornly, she obeyed, but quicker. 

“Keep your eyes up on your target. You don’t need to stare at your blade.”

Again.

“Hands.”

Again.

“Faster.”

Again. 

“Don’t forget your breathing.”

Again.

“Perfect,” Eret said with a growing grin, crossing his arms over his chest and covering the flaming rose crest on his garment. “Keep it up and you’ll be the best swordsman around. Do it a few dozen more times and you can be done for the day.”

The young teenager paused, and smiled. Eret took a seat beside the boulder and pulled out a notebook as she prepped again. She shook the soreness out of her muscles, reminding herself of the spell casting a brown illusion over her blue eyes. It was an amusing thought: the best swordsman. It was a rather great exaggeration of her skills. She was a quick learner, to be sure, but it would still take much longer before she was good enough to defend herself against anyone who knew a thing or two about the art. Besides, there were still Witchers in these parts, so the best was out of the question. Not that she would ever say such a scandalous thing in front of the humans.

“Do not forget why you are here,” D’ao whispered in her thoughts. She smiled.

“I haven’t.”

“And the swordsmanship lessons?”

“Payment for showing them around!”

“You could have taken gold.”

“But then I wouldn’t know swordsmanship!”

“You have magic,” D’ao grumbled and she chuckled. He sounded like he was pouting. 

“And I am grateful, D’ao, but I would also like to be able to wield more than a dagger,” she said and D’ao huffed. She shook her head with a grin, repeating the striking sequence. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget my magic lessons. And I’ve thought about this. They aren’t going to explore the ancient ruins for another month or so, and if they find anything to do with genies, I’ll be there to take care of it. But since I have time, I might as well learn something from them.”

“The ancient ruins will be dangerous for them, yes, and for us if the rumors about ancient genie history being there are to be believed.”

“If there is history there, I’ll burn it. You know that.”

“I do…”

“So don’t worry so much.”

“It isn't that I am worried…”

“...”

—

She wasn’t wrong. Her swordsmanship training did take months, and as time passed, the Knights of the Flaming Rose grew accustomed to her consistent, silent presence. They did not suspect her even as they hunted those ancient ruins, or how she went in first. Not even when their efforts had been in vain, finding nothing more than charred, unreadable books.

They grew proud when she trained and fought, an amusement coursing through them as she became able to defeat even their swiftest commanders. Perhaps their pride had taken a blow the first few times to have been bested by a teenager, but that quickly morphed into astonishment and legend. After all, it had only been a few months since she had joined their company as a guide, and her success was a testament to their ability to teach. That, and her stubborn determination.

It was still a challenge for her, though, as the time passed. It was a strange sort of existence, to be among, but not a part of them. And still, the strange warmth left within her bones by Yennefer and the Witchers remained unsettled. It stirred in her and craved to be resolved. The feeling could not escape the foreign places those people had touched, and she didn’t know how to feed the craving.

She thought she saw Yennefer sometimes, and her heart would leap into her throat. Geralt would pass her in the street only to be gone the moment her head snapped towards him. And every single time, there was a hollow, painful ache. Because, no, they weren’t there at all. She didn’t even know what she wanted from them, really. They were simply…warm, and she had been bitterly cold her entire life.

The same sensations showed their haunting features when she looked in the mirror and saw the color of her eyes. Brown hiding a monstrous blue. The scars peeked over her shoulders and neck, stretching down her back, marring her from shoulder to waist. The welted ring on her left shoulder. Her brand. It exposed everything she was, and she despised it with cold hatred. She knew what she was, there was no need for such a reminder.

And she knew, once the Knights of the Flaming Rose saw the traces of her birthright on her back, they would know as well, and they would turn on her. They had their orders, after all.

They spoke of her kind around campfires, horror stories passed around as if she was no different than the monsters they slew in the swamps and forests. There was no difference to them, between her and the kikimora and the cockatrice, the ones who slayed entire villages, killers of young girls born at the time of the Conjunction. They tied her name to fear, whether they realized it or not. She wondered what would happen if they discovered that the monster they created in their minds trained with them, washed their trousers, and guided them through the forest of which they had no map? They hunted monsters, what would happen when they found out she was one?

She didn’t stay long enough to find out. The cold ache settled in her bones. She disappeared in the night with a stolen sword and a satchel for her herbs, leaving behind nothing but rumors and twisted truths for anyone who came looking. After all, the truth didn’t matter in the end, and could not stand against preconceived beliefs. She would not wait for them to find her nature carved on her skin so that she could be hunted. She would not let them mount her head on a spike, for she did not want to prove to them the monster they believed her to be. So, the darkness covered her escape, her long-time companions lost to a beautiful past, a pleasant memory, as she chased a cure for the ache in her bones.

After all, even monsters feared things.

Even monsters craved for something more.

—Now—

The next time she woke to the warmth seeping into her skin, a strange cot beneath her back, and the sound of tiny pitter-patters on the floor. She had entertained herself for several minutes by remaining beneath the thick fur that covered her, but then she toyed with the rats. She had just caught one by the tail when the door creaked open. 

She froze, rat dangling by its tail and her mouth dropped open as Yennefer showed herself in the doorway. The woman was as unchanged as ever and exactly as she had remembered. Long, beautiful black hair loose about her shoulders, starkly purple eyes and graceful—so very graceful.

“Um…” Yennefer started, her wonderfully wide eyes narrowing at the sight of the rat. She dropped it quickly. It scampered off with a panicked squeak. “I’m Yennefer.”

Ah…yes. It had been years now…of course she wouldn’t remember. The girl swallowed thickly and stood to her feet, offering a short bow of her head in greeting as she whispered her name.

“I came to see how you were doing,” Yennefer said, “And to see if you were hungry.”

She nodded quickly. “I’m fine, and…food in my bag.”

Yenn shook her head, motioning the girl to follow her as she turned. “Nonsense, you’ll have something hot. It’s Ciri’s turn to cook, so it isn’t bad, if a bit bland.”

She followed at Yenn’s heels, still astounded that she was here of all places. She hadn’t thought the sorceress would be hiding amongst the Witchers. 

Yennefer led her back to the great hall she had first entered into, and as the other Witchers appeared, she hid a bit more behind the tall woman. Amongst them, though, she could not find a certain familiar face.

“How’s…Geralt?” she asked awkwardly, shuffling on her feet. It would be strange to say they had already met, wouldn’t it? 

“He is doing better than yesterday, still unconscious, but doing okay.”

“...yesterday?” she muttered. How long had she slept?

“Yes, it is late morning now.”

“Oh…”

Yennefer sat her down in front of a large plate in the center of the table. It seemed as though it was the one everyone grabbed from. Vesemir sat across from her, Lambert beside him, and Coen next. Yennefer sat beside her and upon seeing the girl’s hesitance, grabbed a biscuit and placed it in front of her. 

Her tongue grew heavy in the large company as she nibbled on her bread. It wasn’t exactly quiet, as Witchers—well, she assumed they were all Witchers—communed in the hall. Laughter erupted from the tables behind them now and then, the clank of cups and bottles, easy conversation. An ashen-haired woman sat near her, and while she did not say much, she offered a number of meaningful glances.

“Are you a mage?” Coen asked, trying to lift the thick blanket of awkwardness seated at the table. She nodded hesitantly.

“What kind of spell are you casting right now?” Lambert asked coldly. She almost preferred his bluntness over kindness. It was familiar. She raised a brow. “Our medallions detect magic and monsters, so either you are casting a spell right now, or you are a cleverly disguised beast. And in that case, you aren’t in the best of company.”

“Lambert,” Vesemir scolded, but Sir Ginger was unshaken.

“You could spare to be a little more polite,” Yennefer snapped before turning back to her. “Sorry, he’s just the resident arse.”

Lambert scoffed. Fiddling with her bread, she rubbed the crumbs between her fingers and shifted uncomfortably. Looking back and meeting the resident arse’s eye, she dispelled the illusion. Her eyes shifted, a field of brown morphing into blue seas, like lightning beneath the ocean or trapped within a glazed bottle. Lambert’s medallion ceased its soft tremors.

The Witchers leaned back, a strange look dawning on their faces. She glanced quickly at Yennefer and swallowed thickly. A sliver of hope sparked in her chest as Yenn’s gaze turned thoughtful.

“Illusions,” the ashen-haired girl said, scooting closer. “Hi, I’m Ciri.”

She offered a smile and nodded in greeting.

“Can you do any other kinds of magic?” Ciri asked, but her tone was less accusing than Lambert’s, and more curious.

She nodded, then whispered softly. The medallions began to shake loud enough so even she could hear their hiss. The Witchers stiffened, painfully aware as the air in the room began to shift. Even the tables behind them grew silent and careful. The candles lit upon the table stirred, and the flames went out with a quick gust of wind. The smoke caught and carried in front of them in a long line stretching over the table. The water from Vesemir’s cup rose in a small thread like vein, and dust collected together from the tables and floors. They joined the bit of smoke in a triple helix, and it spun for them in a coordinated display before it dissipated and she ceased. Then she waited.

She waited as her heart pounded violently in her chest and her stomach twisted. Her skin crawled and ate away at her. They were Witchers. 

“The Elements,” Yennefer said, and she said it so casually, as if it was nothing more than a comment about the snowstorm raging outside. As if it were unimportant, a mere observation, and not something she had spent a lifetime trying to carve out of her own body. Hidden since—since everything. Startled as if struck dumb, the girl remained silent and stared at the woman in baffled wonder.

She shouldn’t have been so surprised, really, especially since Yennefer was a mage herself. And Geralt hadn’t—

Vesemir softened, and his voice was gentle and quiet. “You will not find trouble with us, child. You are welcome here.”

She faced him when he reached across the table, offering her another handful of bread. It was unsettling, disturbing even, just how much her chest ached as she accepted it from him. You are welcome here. No one spoke further, but their expressions told more than they might have intended to say, especially Vesemir’s. 

They had noticed something in her response, apparently. Only, she did not know they could hear just how fast her heart was beating, or see how her fingers twitched anxiously, how her body was coiled and ready to leap from danger should any of them twitch. She didn’t know what they saw in her at that moment, or what sort of reflection she was for them. But, what she did know, was they had yet to draw their swords, or look at her in disdain. She would not turn away a kind eye for all the heartache in the world—especially when they also offered bread and a warm fire in the cold of winter.

“Where are you from?” Yennefer asked.

The girl shrugged and waved her hand in a circle. “Around.”

“What about your parents?” Coen asked.

She grimaced, then shrugged again. 

Vesemir raised a brow. “Have you been on your own?” he asked, and she nodded. “How long?”

“Um…” she muttered and looked away, her brow furrowing. She determined the time with the Knights of the Flaming Rose probably didn’t count for much. “Seven.”

“Days?”

“Years.”

“That long?” Coen asked, surprised.

She nodded and they fell grave. She shrugged and offered a smile. Perhaps they would have said more—perhaps she would have spoken more, having at last built the courage—but they were interrupted by another, much more welcomed presence. She jolted in her seat when Geralt’s voice came from the passageway as he entered the room. 

“Tell me it isn’t Lambert’s turn to cook,” he grumbled, and his appointed victim scoffed. He was slow, and his steps were shaky, but he was awake and moving about. 

“Geralt!” Ciri started, jumping out of her seat and rushing over to him. He accepted her embrace easily, wrapping his arms around the young woman for several moments. They whispered something between them, but her ears couldn’t strain to catch them before they parted. 

“It’s good to see you awake,” Vesemir said as they approached.

Geralt hummed and took a seat beside Yennefer. There was a look between them, one a little too long, too intense, to hold the same meaning as the way the others looked at her. The way she leaned into his side and smiled before turning her attention back to the table. It was something more, though she didn’t know what it was exactly. More just felt like the proper word. 

Geralt turned toward her now, and a faint smile pulled at his lips. “You made it further than the gap, I’m impressed.”

She chuckled a silent laugh and nodded. Coen rose from the table, walking over to the fire pit at the center of the room where an iron pot hung over the flames.

“How’s your leg?” Geralt asked as he reached for bread. She raised a curious brow. “That old man grazed your leg. I might not have been able to move, but it would have been difficult to remain asleep with all the jolting around.”

“Wait—” Yenn started.

“What happened?” Vesemir asked for her.

“We were attacked upstream of the Lixela. There was a struggle,” Geralt explained briefly before nodding toward her. “Your leg?”

Surprised, she lightly shrugged. “It’s alright.”

“Have you treated it?” he asked and she nodded. “Good.”

“If you’d like, I can take a look at it later,” Yennefer offered, “See if I can heal it.”

She nodded stiffly as Coen returned. He placed a bowl of…of something in front of Geralt, and then another in front of her. Looking up at him curiously, he smiled, motioning to the bowl.

“Eat.”

She bowed her head in thanks, and he nodded. Whatever it was, it smelled absolutely divine. Doing as she was told, she ate, and the moment the strange flavors erupted over her tongue, she hunched over the bowl and ate like a woman starved. She didn’t mind too much how the others watched her, but she didn’t know what was so interesting about her animalistic behavior. Heat crept up her neck as she tried to slow down.

“Where will you go?” Yennefer asked when her bowl was empty, and once more, she shrugged.

“This winter is going to be harsh if a blizzard this early is anything to go by,” Vesemir said. “You’ll have to winter somewhere.”

She shook her head. “The woods are my home. Winter has never changed that,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but with their enhanced hearing, the Witchers heard her well enough. They didn’t seem to like that response very much, and silence followed for several moments. She cringed.

“Speaking of it…thank you for the food. I should gather my things…” she said and stood, her body resisting. Vesemir spoke before the others were able, keeping her from walking away.

“Stay,” he insisted. “At least until the storm passes over. It would mean death to leave in the midst of it. As I said, you are welcome here. Have no rush to leave.”

Something in her chest melted, like molten stone, and heated her up from within. She swallowed back the thickening knot in her throat as she flicked her eyes from Vesemir to Yenn and Geralt. Her winter-cracked hands gripped at the tattered ends of her shirt tightly.

Bowing her head low, she cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

Another silence followed, but shorter than the last and broken by Yennefer standing. “Come,” she said, her hand brushing over Geralt’s shoulders as she passed behind him. She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the hall. “While you are here, the least we can do is help get you cleaned up.”

—

It was in these efforts of “cleaning up” that she found herself standing awkwardly in the corner as Yennefer poured a bit of heated water into a wooden tub. The room was rather dark, lit by the fireplace and a couple of candles. Heavy curtains draped over the windows, blocking out any daylight, and with it, the cold. It smelled nice too, like lilacs and…and something fruity. It was a comfortable sort of space, calm. 

Two chairs rested by a small round table, a fur draped over its back. A book of sorts, a ribbon, a gown. It was soft, in a way, as if Yennefer had somehow captured the feeling of the early morning sun shining between spring leaves in a bottle and let it loose in the room. It resembled Yennefer deeply. It was as if the room was her own as Yenn sat on the edge of the tub and dipped her hand into the water. As if the room embraced her in the same way she embraced it. 

Yenn smiled, motioning her to come away from the door where she had stood the entire time. “It’s alright, come here. The water is ready.”

Hesitantly, the girl approached and Yennefer stood. She walked with so much grace the girl looked away, as if by simply watching her, she would somehow stain the woman.

“Shall I leave?” Yennefer asked, and her head shot up nearly as quickly as she shook it. Something more resided in the room, and she feared that if Yenn were to leave, that feeling would go with her. That warm golden sunlight would follow her out of the room and she would be left with the dying embers of the fireplace—candle smoke lost by her very breath. 

“Alright,” Yenn said and careful, as if she were reaching out to a frightened animal, rested a hand on the girl’s arm. “Then why don’t we get you out of these?”

Unsure, the girl nodded. It wasn’t as though she actually needed help getting out of her garments, but there was something so gentle in the way Yennefer’s hand touched her skin and helped her. Something so careful, as if she were delicate.

Nothing about her was delicate, she thought. Her skin was dry and cracked, her hands and feet calloused, and dirt was so well buried beneath her nails, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was growing moss. She did not speak gracefully or walk straight and posed like Yennefer. And her back—well, that might as well have been beaten leather. She screamed like a madwoman and bared her teeth like an animal. She was the furthest thing from delicate. And yet…the way Yennefer helped her left her wondering.

She jumped at the sudden gasp Yennefer took. That soft, lingering touch traced along her bare back, trailed over the sharp, welted lines leading from her shoulders to her lower back, from her sides to her spine. They brushed over the ring on her left shoulder, traced the “W” branded into her skin. Embarrassment crawled up the girl’s neck and ignited her cheeks. She did not raise her head when Yennefer turned her around to face her, too consumed with the burning behind her eyes.

“It’s you,” Yennefer whispered, and something within the child fell apart.

She’d remembered.

#sehnsucht #geralt #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #geralt x teen!reader #geralt x daughter!reader #geralt x child!reader #dad!geralt #father!geralt #dad!geralt x teen!reader #dad!geralt x child!reader #dad!geralt x daughter!reader #father!geralt x reader #father!geralt x teen!reader #father!geralt x child!reader #father!geralt x daughter!reader #geralt x yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer x reader #yennefer x child!reader #yennefer x teen!reader #yennefer x daughter!reader #mom!yennefer #mother!yennefer #mom!yennefer x child!reader #mom!yennefer x teen!reader #mom!yennefer x daughter!reader #the witcher #dad!Geralt & reader

[sayafics]

Soul-bonds & Heartaches - Chapter IV

Hey guys! Sorry for taking such a long break, I had a lot of fsmily events over the last few weeks and had a hard time juggling time.

I do hope you enjoy the update, though. I think this chapter will be the last for this series unless there's specific prompts/ideas you want to see. (If so, let me know in the comments or asks! I'd be v happy to write them <33)

TW: implied SA, slight violence

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Masterlist

Geralt had searched for months, the days scraping by as he looked for Andromeda in every shadow, in every smile, in every laugh that haunted him on his travels.

He had left his friends - left them all so he could find her.

Cirilla was safe with Yennefer at Aretuza, and Jaskier had wandered to distant lands, his heart full of broken ballads of an unfinished journey.

Geralt and Yennefer had kept a tentative friendship, ever so cautious to not overstep the boundaries Geralt had so diligently drawn up. Friendship came to them with ease, but every interaction was soured by guilt from one party and longing from the other.

Geralt ventured through the continents, unsure of what guided him and where. His mind was bare of thoughts and his heart burning with emotions he had never been taught to deal with. He was a mess.

He had barely slept since Andromeda had left, living off the scarcest meals as his stomach turned to lead at the idea she may be starving in some backwashed village all because he had messed up and sent her running.

Andromeda was a princess. She was not made for the life he lives. Yet she still followed him into danger, still healed his every wound, and still stood bravely in the face of death if it meant Cirilla would be okay.

She trusted Geralt, trusted him to help them survive, to help them live and find a purpose. Now she was alone, far from them all. And he did not even know if she was safe.

Andromeda was an enigma, a presence so addicting he felt his skin crawl at the realisation he had been so far apart from her for so long. His heart would burn as it longed for her. His mind was plagued with the sound of her voice, his skin imprinted with the sensation of her hands brushing against his skin as she took care to treat his wounds after every battle, his eyes tracing her silohuette in the shadows as he forced himself to sleep at night.

Months.

Months of searching and no success.

Geralt was laid back in a bed, facing the ceiling as he laid an arm over his forehead and scrunched his eyes closed in defeat. He couldn't get her out of his head, her eyes burned into his mind, and sometimes, in the dead of night, he would pretend she was watching him as he slept. Ever a watchful eye, a caring friend, a loving mate.

Perhaps that was why this situation took him by surprise.

He smelt it - a deep and honeyed scent of orange blossoms and jasmine tickling his senses as he leapt up from his place on the bed.

He inhaled deeply, a wild beast searching for its prey. His shoulders tensed as he leapt up to replace his sword and dagger into their respective belts, hands rummaging through blankets and over furniture to collect trinkets and vials he had thrown carelessly across the tavern room as he lost himself in his grief.

Geralt marched through the tavern he had taken residence in, deaf to the cries of indignation of drunk patrons he barged past and eyes seeking a familiar head of hair in the crowd.

His senses led him far from the tavern he hoped Andromeda was hidden in, pushing him to march towards the outskirts of town.

Geralt had never found himself fearing for his life, never had he faced a creature he could not slay and never had he doubted the skills instilled upon him from infancy.

Yet, in this moment now, as he tore through the wilderness in the careful embrace of the night sky, the air thick with fear and horror as the smell he had been craving - the smell he had been fantasising about for months - made itself known to him and grew stronger as he drew closer, he felt a shred of fear wedge itself in his heart.

He could hear a stuttered heartbeat, ragged breaths, and a cloying scent of terror threatened to burn his eyes.

He dared not speak a word, fearful even the faintest whisper would turn his trail into phantom sensations, and he would be following nothing but an echo. A ghost of the woman he had lost.

Still, his shoulders were raised in determination, eyes narrow as he searched through overgrown shrubs and low-hanging trees, head on a swivel as the hand on his right side twitched, ready to reach for his sword if a threat made itself known.

"Please..."

It was a quiet whisper, a pleading whine. And that's how Geralt knew.

It was her.

He would recognise the melody of her voice anywhere. He could be holding onto this life by a thread, and her voice would the only thing he wanted. Needed.

Geralt broke out into a sprint, hand drawing out his sword as he feared what creature could have her so subdued by fear.

He came to a stumbled halt as he took the scene in ahead of his, hand tightening around his sword as a threatening sneer painted itself across his face.

There she stood with her back to him, she was dressed in leathers. They looked clean, neat. Next to her foot laid a single dagger, the hand that seemingly held it before had blood flowing from it, ruby pearls cascading down her fingers to seep into the damp soil.

The sight reminded him of the night with the ghouls, of how he had bled similarly before running to find her, only to miss her by a hair's breadth.

He had found her now.

But she was not safe.

Her back was to him, but he could see how her figure trembled in fear, a calloused hand twisted itself into the careless waves her hair had been flowing down her back in, a knife held to her throat as a man threatened her with a painful death, and forsaken torture.

It didn't take long for the pair to realise someone had joined them, and as the assailant took in Geralt's presence he twisted the girl harshly so her back was against his chest, the hand in her hair tugging her head back so he could press the knife harshly into her skin.

"Geralt."

Andromeda's eyes were wide, pupils blown by fear and mouth parted in surprise.

She looked... good.

She looked healthy, and had it not been for this moment he had stumbled upon, Geralt was sure she had been safe too. The hollows of her face had filled slightly over the months she had been gone. Her eyes no longer held an ache and were not weighed down by pain and longing. As though she had been eating properly, and was able to sleep through the night despite her fear of the dark.

"Rory..."

Her face shuttered at his whisper, drawing in a sharp breath as she ignored the threat of the man behind her and focused on taking in the man who stood in front of her.

Despite all his betrayals, all the hurt he had inflicted upon her, despite his harsh words and unprovoked actions, she found a weight lifting from her shoulders at the sight of him.

He looked ragged, as though he was worn down and tired. And some part of Andromeda was selfish enough to hope she was the cause of it.

A wince escaped her as the man pressed the knife harder against her throat, feeling a warm trickle down her throat, pooling at the hollow at the base of her nack.

A growl ripped from Geralt's throat, "let her go and I'll give you a quick death."

The man scoffed, "an' why should I do that? She's mine, I found 'er first. Get lost Witcher, we don' want y'r lot 'round here."

Geralt huffed in amusement, taking a step foward as he raised his sword higher in a show of promise, "what do you want? If not a quick death."

The man's eyes narrowed, his dark, bushy brows drawing into a frown and peeking past the strands of ebony hair that fell over his face in rivulets. His face had paled when he caught sight of the Witcher, but now it began to redden at the reminder of the cause of his indignation, "this bitch stole me silver. I need repayment, so 'm here t' get it. Been huntin' her down for weeks now, quick little brat, this one. Think I deserve a reward."

A leering smile stretched across the face of the gaunt man, the hand in her hair leaving to wrap around her waist as he pulled her further into him, pressing and feeling.

Andromeda screwed her eyes shut as nausea threatened to overwhelm her senses.

Geralt twisted his head, his heart roaring at the scent of fear that rolled off her in crashing waves, at her quiet whimpers and horrified glances.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a hefty bag he had been rewarded for a recent job he had been successful in. He threw it at the man's feet, wary to give into violence so soon, afraid his need for vengeance would only cause Andromeda more hurt.

No, first she had to be safe. Then he would do what his mind was screaming for him to when he first came upon the scene.

The man looked towards the bag in amusement, eyes dragging their way back to Geralt - "no amount of silvers goin' t' gimme what I need."

"And what do you need?"

"Her. Or her bits at least."

Geralt's heart thudded at his lecherous smile and travelling hands, face grim as he tried to think of a way to help without risking Andromeda getting hurt.

Andromeda spoke then, "then you'll let me go?"

Her voice was quiet, tainted with despair and dread. Geralt screwed his face up in anger and cut off the man with conviction before he spoke, "you won't touch her."

The man laughed unashamedly, head thrown back in glee, "already am Witcher, see."

His hands roved over her, dragging harshly from her waist to her stomach, spanning up to the valley of her breasts and tracing her throat before winding itself in her hair once more. All the while, Andromeda screwed her eyes shut, her stomach roiling in protest at the feel of his touch.

"It's okay, Geralt," there was a whisper of defeat as she looked at him, her eyes glittered as they pooled with expectant tears. The situation was too precarious, too unpredictable. She knew Geralt couldn't help her without risking her life, and a part of her felt envious when she thought of how he had succeeded in helping those who had been in much more vile situations than her own. A traiterous voice told her that if Yennefer had been in her place, he would have fought endlessly for her safety without hesitation.

But Andromeda was not Yennefer, and she didn't hold the same place in Geralt's heart that Yennefer did.

"It's okay," she repeated, her voice stronger despite the fact she felt herself breaking as the seconds passed. She would accept the fate ahead of her. She would pray for her survival and beg the Fates to allow her the strength to move past it and be better.

But if she were to succumb to death, she would walk into its welcoming arms with a relieved smile, "it's okay, Geralt," tears flowed down her face freely now, shoulders lowering as she forced her body to relax, "you'll be free." To love Yennefer, to be with her without guilt.

She had expected to find silent relief in his eyes or a sigh of understanding to escape past his lips. Instead, her words seemed to anger him. Her acceptance of her fate, her willingness to give her body and free will away simply because she thought he would be happy, ignited a blazing fire within him.

Geralt would fight endlessly for Yennefer. But he would wage wars for Andromeda. He would level cities and burn worlds in her name.

It was Andromeda who he pined for all these years, Andromeda whom he wished to pick but felt undeserving of, Andromeda who he was tied to so intricately that he revered the bonds which attached them with unadulterated adoration.

It was Andromeda. It has always been Andromeda.

Geralt nodded, his face expressionless as he lowered the arm holding his sword. The assailant fould himself straightening in surprise, baffled at how the Witcher had given up so easily.

Andromeda's face crumpled in a mixture of understanding and disbelief. It was what she had expected. She wasn't Yennefer.

Geralt lowered himself to the ground, bending at the knees as he placatingly spoke, "I'm going to put the sword down, then I will leave."

The man didn't understand why Geralt would discard his sword before leaving. If Geralt accepted the assailant's terms, then he could leave freely with his weapon if he so wished.

He opened his mouth to speak as such, but a vicious roar escaped Geralt, one filled with grief and guilt and anger as his left hand was thrown forward from behind his back and a knife lodged into the dark-haired man's kneecap.

The assailant let out a wail of agony, falling to the ground harshly. He hadn't expected the pain, hadn't expected Geralt's harsh attack, so the knife fell freely from his hands without causing Andromeda much hurt.

She fell to the floor with the injured man, but before he could reach for her once more she leapt away from him, eyes wide in fear as she saw how he frothed at the mouth and spewed off slurs at both herself and Geralt.

Geralt didn't wait a moment longer, leaving his sword behind he lauched himself at the man. Geralt burned with rage, every scent and every sound a reminder of how close he was to losing Andromeda all over again.

He continued wailing on the man, every hit harder than the last, and his anger did not wane until the man took a rattled last breath. It was then he looked up to find Andromeda staring at him in stunned silence.

Andromeda should have been wary and fearful of Geralt. Her heart should have trembled as he stood to step over the crumpled corpse to stalk his way to her. She should have trembled and cried at the sight of him inhaling deeply, refamiliarising himself with her scent and the overwhelming bounds of emotions that spurted from her uncontrollably.

But as she reached towards his hand that was stretched towards her, palm up - staring at his raw and bleeding knuckles, at the spurts of blood which speckled across his face and the greasy strands of hair that fell across his face - she found herself bubbling in desire.

He had done this for her. To protect her.

She glanced towards the motionless body behind Geralt, hand finally enclosed in his own as he tugged her up to stand - he had killed for her.

He had killed for her.

Andromeda didn't have a chance to look into his eyes, to see the passion and fear and love that drowned his amber eyes. Instead, Geralt drew her into a shaky embrace, as though he couldn't believe she was standing in front of him, as though he couldn't believe he had found her.

When Andromeda didn't rear back from his gentle touches, he tightened his arms around her as a shuddered breath escaped him. He buried his head in the tresses of her hair, finding solace in the familiar scent of orange blossoms and jasmine as he i haled deeply. He tried commiting her form to memory, tried to memorise how her body melded into his own, how it fit against him.

But Geralt could spend an eternity with her in his embrace, and he would still yearn to hold her for longer.

Geralt stiffened at the feeling of a light caress against his back, it was a hesitant touch he soon recognised as Andromeda returning his embrace.

He could no longer help it.

Geralt of Rivia. Butcher of Blaviken. The White Wolf. The Witcher.

All of these twisted parts of his were warriors, stripped of emotions and imbued with skills and tactics.

Yet, in her warm embrace, his eyes began to burn as traiterous tears escaped.

Andromeda closed her eyes in quiet relief at the feeling of his tears against her head, hoping to cherish the moment before Geralt of Rivia replaced her Geralt.

Before Yennefer's Geralt took the place of her own.

"Come back."

Yennefer's Geralt never did come back, and Andromeda found herself wondering if he had even existed in the first play or if he had simply been a mask to hide Geralt's deeper feelings.

His voice was raw, it was quiet. Almost child-like, tinged with desperation as he held onto her tighter, fearful she would slip between his fingers once more.

"Come back, Rory," he pleaded, "come back to me. Come back with me."

She shut her eyes in agony, knowing every inch of her being begged her to say yes. But she knew better, after all this time, she knew better than to blindly say yes.

The truth was, over the last few months that she had been gone, there were no burning sensations that plagued her. There was no sign through her bond to Geralt displaying that he was laying with another.

Not even a burn of the lips like the one she had felt so many moons ago.

But she knew better.

"Do you love her?"

She had to know. She couldn't leave him without knowing, and she couldn't stay when she thought he did.

Geralt pulled back, hands reaching to cup her face as he pulled her face up to look at him, his eyes earnest as he spoke, "I did. Perhaps a part of me still does."

He saw the way her face crumpled at that, but he forced himself to continue, "but it's a thing of the past. I picked you. I pick you. I have every day since that night by the fire"

A harsh laugh escaped her as she tried to pull away unsuccessfully, "then why did you kiss her that night?"

He closed his eyes as he was overcome with guilt, "I didn't do it because I love her. I told her I wanted you, I needed you. She wanted to say goodbye. And it was wrong of me, I know, and I am so sorry, little one. But it is over, never to happen again."

"How can I believe you? You lied to me once already."

Her words were spoken defeatedly, but it caused determination to rise in Geralt. He brought a hand to reach for her own, placing her palm against his chest, against his heart - "ask me."

She looked at him in confusion, a small frown tugging at her lips, "what?"

"Ask me."

She knew what he meant, of course she did and she found herself breaking into a sweat as she tried to string her words together.

"Do- do you love me, Geralt?"

"Only you, only ever you." Andromeda could feel his thudding heart, the way it beat against its cage as he confessed the truth after so long, begging to bare himself to the girl. To show all his scars and faults, and plead with her to accept him and love him as he is.

She found her own heart began to beat in sync.

"It's only ever been you, Rory. You're all I ever want," he leaned closer to her, nose brushing against her own as his breath fanned over her mouth, the sensation causing blood to rush and tint her face a darkened pink. "I love you," the whispered confession came out at a rushing pace. He began echoing his words as he teetered between kissing her or letting her go.

Thankfully, heart satiated by the confession, spirits reignited, and doubts diminished, she looked at Geralt with eyes full of adoration. Her hands skimmed up the leathers of his arm, carressing over his broad shoulders before tickling up his neck as they took their place at the edge of his jaw, close enough to tug a few strands of hair as she dragged him closer.

Her tongue flicked out her mouth, lightly tracing the shape of his lips only a breath away, every accidental brush against his lips caused Geralt to flush red until his impatience got the better of him, "kiss me."

The demand was fulfilled with vigour as Andromeda soared up on her toes as Geralt leaned down. They met with a soft kiss, their lips gliding against each other as hesitance melted into passion, and they began to pour eons' worth of unreminisced desires into a single kiss.

The kiss caused their souls to brighten, a pleasurable burn racing through their body as the claim Geralt had made all those years ago sang harmoniously at their union.

Andromeda wasn't sure how long they had been kissing, but when she pulled back to gasp for air she found herself tucking back some loose strands of hair behind his ear, a shy smile bracing her face as she confessed, "I love you too."

"Come home, little love."

Home was where her heart lived, with her family. With a grumpy Witcher, a runaway princess, and a boisterous bard.

"Take me home, Geralt. Take me whever you go."

They stood there for some time, their heads leaning against one another, eyes closed as they basked in each other's presence.

Andromeda's hand found its way back to Geralt's chest, finding solace in the racing beats of his heart.

Geralt's hands had never left Andromeda's face, absentmindedly tracing the contours of her face, following every blemish and scar that graced her skin.

Soon night turned into dawn, and they looked at each other with renewed vigour in the golden light, drinking in the site of each other hungrily.

Geralt had found Andromeda.

Andromeda had found Geralt.

Taglist: @welliguessiwritethingsnow @kneelforloki @xicesam @lovesickollie @supersoilderswhxre @henryownsme @makemydaysworthit @pookiesnatcher @starlightaurorab

#geralt smut #geralt x reader #geralt x yennefer #geralt of rivera #geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #cirilla of cintra #princess cirilla #cirilla of vengerberg #witcher cirilla #the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

The Witcher Season 3

Chapter 1 - Shaerrawedd

Summery: Constantly on the run to protect Ciri’s life. You, Geralt, and Yennefer face deadly foes while trying to keep the peace between the three of you.

Warning: fighting, blood

Of Monsters and Men masterlist

They came for her again last night in the hills by the water. Before that, a few weeks past with some guards and a man with glasses. Some professor. All of them hired by that fire mage, Reince. The reason your traveling party hasn't been able to take a rest for longer then a week at a time.

You'd left Kaer Morhen a time ago with Geralt, Ciri, and Yennefer. Jaskier choosing to go his own way for awhile, concerned about his safety and wellbeing and all that. Understandable. So the four of you left, traveling with the intention of living somewhere for as long as Cirilla needed. A place where she could learn to fight and tune into her natural magical gifts.

Somewhere safe and comfortable. A home to grow and enjoy life for all that it is and can be. The place you'd help raise Ciri until she was strong enough, until she was ready to force Nilfgaard back into their den. Or become a Witcher like Geralt. Whatever her choice, she would be well prepared for it by then.

However, life refuses to make this easy for anyone. Men hunting you four always. Hiding and sneaking in the dark, a few in broad daylight, a couple on horseback. All have come to take her and kill you, Geralt, and Yennefer. All have failed. Yet these events have made Geralt all the more paranoid, more so then he's ever been.

You go through it a day at a time. Teaching Cirilla how to fight, how to hold a blade, how to survive. Yennefer teaches her magic and control of chaos. Geralt teaches her about herbs, monsters, and Witcher things. Together she's got wonderfully exceptional teachers. The best at what they do, the perfect guides for her.

You understand her urgency to grow and learn, but you also know running from place to place is wearing her out. If not now, later. She's bright and fearsome as a spring flower. She doesn't deserve to be hunted for her existence. You know all to well what that felt like, how it still feels. Hunted for what you are. Tracked ruthlessly for days on end.

This is no life for a young girl. Being on the run.

Your hand touches the rough bark of a tree as you press your body against the trunk. High up into the canopy of an evergreen, watching over the snow covered forest for any sign of a threat. The night is dark and the snow falls gently from all around you. Below is your companions camp. They're sleeping near the horses in their thick blankets and clothing. Ciri is wearing your cloak.

You can't feel the cold so your attire looks slightly out of place here. You look more prepared for the spring then this chilly winter weather. All in all, it bothers you not.

You scan the woods but see nothing of any concern. You're far enough north, you haven't seen another person in days. You stay in the tree, siting down with your back against the trunk this time. Letting your head rest pressed to the bark. The scent is an earthy one with remnants of home in the pines outside your mothers castle. There, you'd do the same as you are now. Sit and watch from a hidden point of view.

Circumstances greatly different.

Your mind wanders to the events that led you thus far in your journey since the banquet. That damned party. The place in Cintra where it all began, where destiny chose to push you on a new path. Oh so long ago. A far away memory.

Their tranquil breathing is a good sign that they're all sleep. Some nights you'd keep watch till the dark blue hour before dawn and Geralt would still be awake. Other times that would be Yennefer. Yes, your dear friend Yennefer. She is doing her best for Ciri. She is an immensely patient help to the girl. She is what Cirilla has needed for a long time.

You have been giving her a hard time anyways. You love her, you really do. She's your friend, you considered her your sister at one point due to your closeness and history. You've known one another a very long time. Longer then Geralt. Yet she had hurt you deeply.

Many moons ago she had taken whom you have grown to love and protect. The Cintran princess. Ciri. She had been tricked and deceived by Yennefer just as she did to you. All in the name of chaos. Granted, Yennefer couldn't give Ciri away when it came time for the act to be done. She did go forth with the plans to obtain the enchanted girl anyhow. And she did succeed. She took Ciri from you.

Though Geralt gives a word or two to the mage. You haven't been able to bring yourself to say anything at all. You still feel all too strange about it. Puts a bad taste in your mouth. Most notably, it's severed the trust you had built with her. You'd wished it never happened, and yet it did.

You wished there was no battle at Sodden, you wished that Yennefer never disappeared and lost her powers all at once, and you wished she never took Ciri from you. Those things cannot be undone and you understand this. Some acts are meant to happen for other things to take place. No matter if they hurt or not.

Things will be better, you know this in your heart.

Your scarlet eyes fall upon Geralt tucked warm in his dark cloak, body sleeping on a thick mat. The fire next to his head flickers with the breeze, embers glowing deep fiery colors. You can smell the burnt wood. You can smell him. An odor you could find in the largest of cities, no matter how far he went wandering. A strong man smell of earth and metal. A Witcher's scent.

Tomorrow you'll sleep in a bed. You're sure of it.

———

The day turned to gray storm clouds faster then you'd have liked, bringing wet icy-cold snow from the heavens. Every time you exhaled a puff of white was sure to follow. You could tell the winter chill was beginning to weigh heavy on the other two ladies by the time you all reached Yarpen's home.

The feisty foul mouthed dwarf you first met on the trip to kill that dragon. He welcomed you four nonetheless, though he made himself clear not to touch a thing. And that payment would be due for this unexpected arrival. He did remember you however, and he made it known to stay away from him. Joking of course. Well......you couldn't completely tell.

Fortunately he had room to spare. You, Geralt, and Ciri to one house. Yennefer to the other. You could tell she would have liked your distance to be within a few feet. And maybe a word or two. But you didn't look at her so she knew better then to join you three in the small house. You're not ready to share a conversation just yet.

A few nights passed after the first. You all finding your new home quiet suitable for the time. It's safe and warm. It's far from people and any towns. Secluded. Just how you'd prefer. Just how Geralt likes it. Just what Ciri needs.

You've talked it over with Geralt a few days back. To live here with Ciri and Yennefer until the girl is ready. Keep here through the seasons and let her grow in body and magic. Stay in this quiet place by the water and the pines. You'd like that, but you know Geralt too well.

—

The axe cuts through cold wood on the stand, two chunks of now smaller wood falls to either side. Geralt reaches down for another while you stand nearby with the letter Yennefer stuck to your door. You hold the parchment in your hand and begin. "Dear friends, we're so far off the map here that we may never leave again. Come to think of it, would that be such a bad thing? We'll continue magic lessons before the ice melts, I promise. But for now, perhaps the girl deserves a break. Perhaps you both and I do too. Your friend, Yennefer."

Geralt says nothing. You let the moment pass while he cuts another log in half. "Well?" You ask.

"Hmm?" Another log is cut.

You fold the paper, glancing over to Yennefer and Ciri ice skating together a short distance away. "You have nothing to speak of it?"

"She's trying." He grunts. Two more pieces of wood fall to the piles in the snow.

"I do agree this place is good for us, all of us. But I don't know about waiting too long for these lessons."

"She is still young."

You absentmindedly turn the paper in your hand. "So was I."

He cuts another chunk, then he gives you his full attention. "Her mother wasn't a vampire."

"But she was a queen. Just like my mother. She cannot waste time."

"She has us, do not forget that." His golden eyes shine bright with truth. "She is bound to us."

You watch the young girl smile and laugh with Yennefer, they're a sweet pair losing their footing on the slick ice. They're not very good with skates and yet they're enjoying themselves immensely. You can't help the small smile forming onto your features. "You're right. She has us and she needs laughter if she means to live to her eighteenth birthday."

"You should join them." He suggests with a kind grin.

You set your eyes back to Geralt, "Don't be ridiculous, I'd look a fool." His laughter is sweet as you kick a piece of wood, sending it sailing towards the forest. "Why don't you join them?" He holds up his axe and you flick a hand at him like you mean to swat him like a fly. "Oh shut up."

He smiles again, admiring you dearly.

———

The days pass and the snow stops falling yet it still sticks to the ground. Still keeping your boots wet and some feelings damp.

It may have taken awhile, but one evening Geralt let Yennefer in for dinner. She invited herself, but you could tell Ciri was glad to have her there, so you didn't mind. The time spent was not wasted and the meal was good, though you could not let yourself speak to her. At the end of the night all you gifted the mage was a simple good night and that was it. She smiled when she left. You looked to Geralt and he smiled at you. Giving your hand a squeeze.

A day later you said hello when passing her to hunt for deer in the woods. The next evening you invited her to dinner, well you sent Ciri to invite her. But Ciri told Yennefer you did....you were simply too busy to do it yourself. And now, much to Geralt's surprise, you're about to give Yennefer some extra wine.

You're not forgiving her, but you do miss talking to her. Geralt isn't exactly the best conversationalist of the group and Yarpen is more or less off-put by your presence. Ciri is kind but sometimes you merely want another adult woman to talk to. The horses don't care to listen. So Yennefer it is.

Your boots press into the snow covered earth as you grip the wine bottles handle. You're still uncertain of this decision but Geralt insisted it was the right choice. You are all Cirilla's parents in one way or another, so keeping ties strong should be important. You're still not sure if this is a good idea.

It's too late once you reach the thin wooden door. Just before your knuckles make impact with the wood, it opens. Surprising you, however you don't flinch. Long black hair and two exquisite lavender irises stare back at you. She smiles warmly. "Y/N." A soft, happy voice.

"Yenns." Her old nickname slips out before you can stop it.

Her smile never fades. "You need..."

"Wine." You finish. "I know you needed some more. So I brought you this." You stiffly hold up the large bottle for her to take.

"Oh?" She takes the unexpected gift. "Thank you. I did need some more."

You give a small nod, taking a step back as you mean to leave now. She's unsure of herself or what to say and you don't stick around to listen. You're halfway across the yard when she calls for you. Unlike other times, you stop and turn around.

She's still at the door with the wine bottle in her hand. "Maybe we could share this an evening?" Shaking the bottle to further promote the hopeful question. You can hear it slosh around from here, you can still smell it too. What a lovely scent. Reminds you of the vineyards in Rinde.

"Will there be dancing and music?" You jest.

She tilts her head knowingly, appreciating your light humor again. "It can be arranged."

She watches you flash a quick half grin before turning and continuing on your way. She has waited months for that, not sharing a few words with you has been almost as horrible as losing her magic. Perhaps she'll tell you that when the time is right.

———

Outdoors and crouched by the fire a short distance from the houses, you poke the burning embers with a stick as Yarpen pulls his wagon past you. His horse flicks it's tail as he shouts for it to stop. You stand and go to help unload, Geralt and Yarpen are already taking baskets off the cart by the time you reach them. Though it appears the dwarf is less satisfied with this haul.

"Wish I had more for ya, but the Squirrels hit Henselt's convoy." He says, standing on the porch, picking up a potato from a bag. "Look at these. Potatoes the size of gnome nuts."

The Squirrels, some band of thieves that keep bothering travelers.

Ciri and Yennefer join when you grab a leather bag of something smelling of old bread. "Did they attack your convoy as well?" Asks Geralt, setting a basket onto the porch.

Yarpen scoffs. "I'd like to see them fuckin' try it!" He states, leaning into the wagons side. "The elves' gripe is with the kings, not us. They're just trying to soften the North for the grand cock of Nilfgaard." He makes a little gesture with his thumb and pointer finger. Insinuating Nilfgaards cock is indeed tiny.

"Nilfgaard gave elves refuge, and now they're fighting on their behalf." Adds Yennefer while you walk past with a bag of apples, giving her one in the process. "Amazing what people will do when you give them a second chance." She muses, taking a bite to hide her smile.

Yarpen doesn't miss the subtleties. His brows furrow as he points between you two. "Hold on! You're talking to creepy eyes again?" You glare at him as he laughs. "Bout' time too. I was fearin' we'd never have Spring if you two lassies didn't lighten up. Reminds me, our Belleteyn festival is just down the valley." He turns his attention to Ciri. "You should come."

Ciri grins, excited at the thought. "I'd love to."

"Bad idea."

"It's not safe." Are promptly heard by Geralt and Yennefer just before you add. "Alright." In agreement to this lively spring gathering. A princess should have fun after all, shouldn't they?

The two of them look at you, surprised. Ciri appears rather elated. You shrug at the hesitation from the older ones. "No one's asked about her in months. Everyone will be in costume and we'll be there." They remain unconvinced. "We can handle ourselves."

"And...I was born on Belleteyn." Adds Ciri, looking between the three of you.

Yarpen grins mischievously. "Ah! You'd have had a shot at bein' May Queen. Except my niece's beard is comin' in nice and full this year. May be some competition. Hahaha..." His laughter is rapid and annoying with that accent of his, but you don't mind his enthusiasm. Geralt gives him a warning glance as he walks around him to pick up more stuff from the wagon.

"Just say yes, already!" Shouts Yarpen, irritated with Geralt's usual disapproval. "About time for a fuckin' thaw round here." He walks off to sort his things, no doubt fed up with the lack of adventure radiating off of your group.

Ciri approaches Geralt. "I promise I'll be safe." He sighs, taking his focus off of the wooden box he's about to grab from the wagon.

Taking out a bottle of wine from the box in your left arm, you casually flip it in your hand. "We may not have the grandest luck, but honestly with us so far out here. How bad can a Spring festival be?"

———

"I feel ridiculous in this thing."

Sat diligently in his chair, Geralt turns around to meet you in a rather beautiful dress. You stand there like a fish out of water in a green thing that makes you look like some sort of queen of the water nymphs. It is gorgeous and spring-like, but it is Yennefer's extra gown. Not quite your taste by any means.

Geralt keeps silent, too awe struck to speak a word, no less think to create one. He's never seen you in such color before. His golden eyes scan all over your dress, the way it sits on your body, the way it hugs in just the right places. He finally stands and approaches. His eyes are dazzling as he looks into yours. "You look lovely." He says softly. "So beautiful my dear Y/N."

Your irritations slink back with the sweet words. You can't help but reach up to hold his cheeks in your nimble hands. His strong ones resting on your hips. "Thank you. Though I may have neglected to realize I would need a dress for this thing."

He squeezes your hips. "Would you have me take it off you then?"

Heat immediately blossoms in your nether regions with his sly words, enticing question indeed. You rub your thumb over his lips. "Perhaps." You gift him a tender kiss. "When we return."

"Now let's get going shall we?" Geralt parts from you to open the door, he holds it for you and gives a slight nod of his head. "Your carriage is waiting my princess."

You step past him but not before running your finger across his broad chest. "Why thank you sir. Will you be with me all night?" Gerald chuckles as he follows you out the door.

"If you'll have me." He adds, playing along.

You smile deviously. "Wonderful. We're going to have a brilliant time."

———

It didn't take long until the lot of you had made it to the Belleteyn festival. It didn't take long for you all to get to comfortable and thus before you knew it, shit went south. The night was filled with fires and food and music. Joy and laughter and drunken spirits. Then in the maze, a place that was meant to be an enjoyable time with company. A place to get lost in for a little while and act silly as you tried to find the way out. It was fun.

Then you heard something. So faint, a movement on the earth. A rolling vibration, many legs, a mass of energy larger then anything that should have been at Belleteyn. Geralt didn't hear it. No one around you wandering the maze revealed any inclination of hearing this mysterious being. You knew it was alive and going somewhere.

Then you caught it's foul scent when the wind changed. Putrid and stinking like an insect left with a rotting corpse. Then the sound and the smell intertwined as it neared wherever it was in the maze. Yes, it had entered the maze. And no sooner did the name of the creature leave your lips did the terrified screams begin.

Geralt ran and so did you. Luckily Yennefer came to Ciri's aid faster then either of you could get there. Together, the Jackapace was defeated and no one from your company was wounded. But it hurt knowing what this meant, and so here you are now. A new plan settled and mapped. A different turn in your ongoing traveling protection team. One crafted by Ciri herself.

To lure Reince out of his hole. The fire mage who sent the Jackapace, the one who has been sending all those men after your group. After Cirilla. After you. He stole her Elder blood in Kaer Morhen and used it on the Jackapace, once they have a scent, they never stop hunting. Always a problem, always running and running and running.

You miss those days before all this. Before Ciri and Jaskier and when it was just you and Geralt traveling the Continent. Just you and your Witcher together. Old times. Good times they were.

Now you're being sent to the closest city over to bring back Jaskier, so he can help your merry band lure Reince out. You would greatly enjoy a week without this hiding and moving to just sleep in a tavern with Geralt. Oh how destiny has other plans for you.

———

Redania isn't so bad, well if not for the smell it really wouldn't be such a dull place in your eyes. Though you've never been fond of cities to begin with. Always terrible smells and loud noises, drunken folk and watchful guards. Too many people.

You walk past merchants selling their wares, children running with a dog, and others shopping in the streets. Men laugh loudly from a tavern on your right while a horse screams on your left when a fool smacks it's arse. Women hurry past you to get to where they're going. A boy almost runs into your legs, not looking as to where he's going. If there's one blessed thing about cities, people don't pay you any mind here.

You hunt for the Sandpiper. You know where he stays when he's not at the taverns or wooing ladies at the court. And if you're lucky, he won't be in the middle of entertaining that blonde woman again. What she sees in those bright blue eyes of his, you have not a clue. He's a bit too loquacious for your taste.

You still love him for his quirks anyway.

Past a man with a brown and yellow snake around his hand, you turn the corner and stop, your legs have brought you to a riveting sight to be seen. A woman with dark hair and plush deep red lips is, what it appears to be, threatening Jaskier. She's close to him and she reeks of magic. A mage. A man with reddish blonde hair stands off to her right, he wears royal clothing. Furs and red. They are undoubtedly Redanian figures of importance you're sure of that.

Unfortunately, you don't catch the conversation and just as you came, they leave him. You watch them walk off somewhere else, a few guards following dutifully behind. Not wasting a moment longer, you're behind Jaskier and holding up his lute that was on the ground for some reason. He doesn't hear a thing.

"Will you sing me a song for a few coins? It's all I have." You tease the distraught bard. He instantly recognizes your voice.

"Now this..." Jaskier turns around to see you at long last and by the looks of it, he's genuinely glad to see you. "Is a delightful surprise." He smiles blissfully, not even aware that his lute is in your hands. "Still ever so radiant, and terrifying and uh why...why are you here? Is Geralt here too? Ciri? You guys hunting something or just stopping by finally to hear me sing with my...oh right. My lute."

You give it a little strum. "Just me."

"Yes and though I am thrilled to see one of my very best of friends again. Whenever I see you and those magnificent ruby red eyes of yours. I know it means trouble." He points. "Or you've come to your little vampirey senses and realized I'm way more interesting then Geralt and a joy to hang around."

Plucking some cords, you share a fangy grin. One that is devilish and beautiful. "Oh how I've missed you. But no, not here to listen to your sweet voice nor protect your bum when that mouth of yours gives more then your coins do."

Jaskier laughs. "That's fair I suppose."

"Yes, but I do need you." You insist with a nudge to his shoulder.

Jaskier's face falls. "Oh no, no, no. What is it this time?"

•••

"Bait!" Exclaims Jaskier. "I rode for days with Y/N, mind you, to get here. Battling hunger, battling the elements, only to discover upon my arrival that I'm being used as..."

"Jaskier, me." Interrupts Ciri as she walks with her horse, Jaskier doing the same, you in between them. Notably without a horse to lead.

"...bait."

"I am the bait. Rience is after me." Adds Ciri matter-of-factly.

"Yes, which means he wants you alive, and me very much not alive. You see my anxiety?" He insists, loudly. Dramatic.

"We're not gonna let anything happen to you Jaskier." Says Geralt now as he and Yennefer ride near on their own horses. The three of you stop as they approach closer.

"I saved your arse once. I can do it again, Pankratz." Adds Yennefer as Jaskier casts his eyes on her doubtfully.

"You didn't save me..." He glances between you and Ciri. "She didn't save me. She.." You both begin to smile as his horse snorts at him. "She didn't! But seriously, you are gonna save me, right?"

"Of course, Jask." You pat him on the arm. "Have we not before?"

He scoffs. "Well, there's been moments. Moments where I've feared for my sweet lovely life."

"Seem fine to me." Whispers Ciri, holding back a grin.

"Ah, ah, ah! I may look it, yes. But the memories. The things I've seen because of them." Jaskier waves a hand at you and Geralt and Yennefer. "I should be more traumatized then I appear. I probably am really."

"Oh you little princess." You playfully start as Ciri begins to giggle with amusement. Jaskier just swats you away, poking at you until you move out of reach from him.

"Be gone woman!" Says Jaskier, still whipping his hand around. "Mean." He leans his head close to Ciri, trying real hard to whisper. "She may save your life but she won't save you from her insults." Ciri simply nods, holding back a laugh.

Rolling your eyes, you rest a hand on your hip. "I can hear that."

"Oh I know you can!" He shouts dramatically, enjoying your friendly squabble. "Maybe I wanted you to!"

You stick your tongue out at him. Jaskier does it back. You make your face contort a little to show off the more vampiric side of you. Jaskier hisses, pulling down the bottom eyelid of his left eye. Your skin begins to turn grey, irises glowing blood red and fiery orange near the pupils. Jaskier kicks a foot out like some drunken man attempting to brawl.

"Alright you two." Sternly breaks the voice of Geralt. You and Jaskier return to your composure. "We won't make Hagge by sunset." Geralt looks to his left, the landscape with its small hills, trees, and an old ruin. "We'll make camp here."

"Sleeping in the woods again?!" Complains Jaskier. "Honestly!"

—

Your party, consisting of your friends and Yarpen's, settle among the broken rock of the ruined tower. You all take your time to set up camp, built small fires for their warmth and let the horses feed. When curiosity takes the better of Cirilla, yourself, Geralt, and Yennefer follow her to the center of the ruins. A more quieter place from the others.

Here the ground is open dirt with little grass but in fair patches scattered about and near the rocks. Further is an unambiguous platform made of stone, a large statue of an elven woman in the center. Two sets of stairs lead on either side of her to another platform the same as the first. Around this, and this old courtyard of sorts, the walls are tall with open doorways of high arches leading further into the structure. You can feel the energy of this place, it's violence and pain.

You can almost smell the blood.

"What is this place?" Asks Ciri as she goes on ahead, captivated by its melancholy beauty.

"It's Shaerrawedd." Answers Geralt. He knows the story just as Yennefer and you do. Though you were alive on the Continent when it took place, they had yet to exist.

Your scarlet irises linger over the white roses growing in patches here, below rocks, and at the bottom of the weathered statue. "Tread lightly. This land is full of stories." Warns Yennefer, not wanting Ciri to touch something and risk a vision. The imagery would be a horrible sight, you know this just as they do.

Ciri approaches the stone platform, enchanted blue-green eyes bewitched by the flowers in such an odd place. "Never seen so many wild roses in one place. They're beautiful." She admits, stopping in front of the elven woman of stone.

The three of you stand to either side slightly behind her. You focus onto the moss crawling up the sides of the carved robes. "Their story, sadly, is not." You stop next to Ciri who looks up at you, your eyes never leaving the moss. "Aelirenn. A brave and inspiring elven warrior who thought she could defeat the humans. She was wrong."

Yennefer steps closer to the roses. "A rather condensed version of the story." Spoken with a tinge of bitterness. She is of elven blood so you understand.

"And what's yours, then?" Asks Ciri.

Yennefer turns to address the young girl. "After the Conjunction, humans arrived. The elves thought the humans were just a nuisance, like a plague of locusts or a drought. That they would die off in the blink of an elven eye. But the humans kept multiplying. And killing." Yennefer glances up at the statue. "Aelirenn knew the threat wasn't going away. So she rallied all of the young elves to fight, at Shaerrawedd."

"Sounds like she fought for what she believed in." Says Ciri, admiring the statue as well. "To protect her people."

Geralt rests an arm around her shoulders. "She did fight for what she believed in. She led those young and passionate elves to war. They revered this place. This is were they fought. They fought for her. And they died with her name on their lips and their honor and integrity intact. And in doing so, they condemned their species to annihilation. She led them all to their deaths." Geralt explaines, giving a remorseful sigh. "Neutrality. It won't get you a statue. But it'll certainly help in keeping you alive."

He gives her shoulders a comforting squeeze before releasing her and choosing to head back to camp. You can sense his unsettlement with this place the longer he lingers around. Yennefer stays a moment and then turns to leave as well, you doing the same. This is no place to sit and remember it's history.

———

The night arrives and you tuck in close to Geralt. There is not much to say with Ciri and Yennefer sleeping so near, a usual and necessary occurrence these past few months. The four of you can't seem to get away from one another for too long. Then again, the world hasn't quite let you. Ciri is much too important for you all to disperse and go your separate ways. A ridiculous thought really.

You can't complain with a white haired Witcher at your side and a heart beating only for you. He is moody, tranquil, and formidable. Yet he is gentle, soft-hearted, and deeply alluring. You would never trade him for all the gems and gold in the entire world. And at your origins, you are a princess. Daughter to the Vampire Queen, the first vampire in all of the Continent. A pure-blood vampire. One who was never turned, simply born as she is. A true terror. Your mother.

You haven't seen her in centuries.

Geralt pulls you close, his chest pressed to your back with his arm slung lazily over your waist. He's sleeping though his hand holds yours, a soft grip that remains with his unconsciousness. He holds you when he sleeps, you know this is the only time he fully relaxes. He knows you sleep light and would, and have, protected him when he slumbers. He knows he's safe now.

Your lips press to his fingers and you snuggle in closer, if that's even possible. You relax and listen to the careful thudding of his heartbeat. You can feel his chest rise and fall. Hear the expansion of his lungs, the contraction of the heart in his chest. At first when you began traveling with him, these human sounds would bother you. You'd close your eyes and smell the blood through the skin and hate yourself for the thoughts that would arise.

Then, as a new night would arrive, those thoughts of blood and natural hunger would disappear. Disappear until they were no more. Now you relish in the presence of Geralt and all his essence that keeps him alive and well. The vessel containing spirit. The soul of your beloved Witcher. Without him in your immortal life, even knowing this will not last, you wouldn't have ever changed meeting him.

So you sleep and wait for dawn.

—

When the first morning bird fluttered down from its perch on the thin branches above. Before it opened its throat to sing of the rising dawn, you woke. The rustle of feathers and the quick movement of its three pronged feet reached your ears in sleep. Your ears with their slight pointed look, the inherent characteristic of a vampire. No matter if you are half or not. Your mothers blood is far too powerful. By right you are a damphir, yet your blood gives you the strength of a pure-blood.

Not all attributes are a delight. The noise of the small bird is enough to keep you awake, granted more time spent held in the wee hours of the morning with Geralt is bliss. But when you find the pink of the sky readying to turn everything bright again. You cannot make yourself stay and lay docile when you know others hunt for your people. And you.

Silent as the winter snow falling from the heavens. You slip from Geralt's embrace and away from Ciri and Yennefer who continue to catch needed rest. You make not a sound as your legs take you throughout the camp, this is unintentional but you cannot help the gentleness of your footing.

You check on Jaskier who is fine. Then the dwarves still sleeping and the horses keeping watch. When your nose picks up the scent of smoke, are you following it to a small gathering of branches. Yarpen tending to it with a stick in his hand. You stand silently, observing his movements like a fox on a hillside. He remains unaware for a few minutes until your curiosity causes you to speak.

"Cold?" Your voice cuts through the morning chill though gentle it may be. Yarpen jumps like a startled dog, almost managing to throw his stick in the air.

"Well fuckin' gods ye tryin to kill meh?" He yells with a hand over his chest. "When in the great fuck did you get here?"

"Apologies. I did not mean to scare you."

Yarpen laughs merrily, shoulders relaxing as he takes a seat on the rock near him. "Ay, not many bastards can do that." He points the stick at you. "You're not like those silly old cats anyways. Odd bugger you are." He chuckles, resting the stick over his knees.

You glance at the ruins of Shaerrawedd. "Indeed." Voice soft and reflective.

Yarpen cannot tell if he's offended you or you're simply lost in thought, perhaps pondering a matter intuitively. He shrugs. "Eh, you ain't so bad if Imma be honest with ye. Just uh, guess I'm not so fond of those sharp toothed bloodsuckers from the north." He muses.

You let out a humored breath. "I respect you for your truth. But I trust you because Geralt does." You swiftly turn to leave but stop a moment to speak to him from over your shoulder, he's intrigued by this. "Thank you for your help." And with that said, Yarpen blinks, readying to speak though you have already gone. He jumps up looking this way and that but you're nowhere to be seen.

He sits again, contemplating your words.

In the stronghold of the ruins of Shaerrawedd, you stand below the towering statue of the elven warrior. A she-elf who died fighting for her people. You remember her. That name from so long ago, you remember when your mother told you about what the elves were doing. What happened here. You could only see it as unfortunate but brave, not that a whole species was condemned in one battle.

Your kind was here before them and the humans. Surely these beings were meant to rise and fall and change and evolve. That's what creatures do who can die easily. That's how their kind survives and thrives.

You are immortal and cannot die like them, so you can only watch and understand, your mother would explain. Vampires are meant to remain forever and protect their own, keep the world in a sort of balance.

Whatever that meant.

Footsteps sound from a short distance behind you, small and delicate, coming to the place where you stand. They have not entered into this ruin but you need not move from panic, it is Cirilla. You wait for the young princess to join you if she chooses. The wait is not long.

When she gingerly approaches to your right, you give the girl a nod of acknowledgment. "Out for a walk?" You ask. Ciri goes to take a seat on a broken chunk of the ruin.

"I had another dream." She answers softly.

You nod. "Dreams huh? No dream you bring to me is ever filled with sweet marshmallow bunnies. Was it a nightmare?"

"No, it wasn't frightening. Just couldn't sleep thinking about Aelirenn. And my grandmother." She explains as you go to sit next to her. "They lived centuries apart, but burned with the exact same mission. Wipe the other species off the Continent."

Ciri stands up, eyes set to the statue and the white roses crawling up it from below. "When I finally fell asleep, it came to me." She kneels down to touch the beautiful flowers. "If I can offer something different. A way forward that doesn't divide, but unites." She stands once more. "I'm part elf, I'm part human. I understand both because I am both, and that is my strength."

"I understand what you're saying. History, it..." You sigh. "...has a way of repeating itself. Even for the idealistic."

"You say Aelirenn's idealism is what led to the massacre of the young elves, but maybe if her elders had supported her instead of abandoning her, they could've won." Ciri glances at the statue. "Yennefer said they have a saying."

You reiterate that saying in perfect Eldar. "What has been need not always be." You speak in common tongue. "Yennefer told me the elven queen, Francesca, could offer more to her people."

"So could I." Adds Ciri, defiantly. "Geralt taught me how to fight. Just like Calanthe. Yen has been teaching me how to harness my powers. Like Mousesack. And you, Y/N, you've taught me how to weald a blade. Something I always wished to know. What if this is the reason destiny brought us together? Nenneke said I have the power to change the cycle of hatred. And I want to. To bring balance between kings and mages, and to align the Continent, instead of constantly putting parts against each other. Because I am sick and tired of destruction and loss."

Her eyes are close to filling with tears of great frustration and sadness. You quickly stand and go to her, resting your hands on her thin shoulders. Sincerity in your voice. "I don't doubt you, Ciri. I do doubt the world, though." Your sensitive ears prick with the sounds of many footsteps. Clang of metal and hushed voices in the distance. Ciri immediately picks up on your abrupt silence.

Her eyes grow with confusion. "Y/N what is it?" She quickly turns to the sounds of Geralt and Yennefer running into the grove. "What's happening?"

Geralt has his sword in hand. "They're here."

"I know." You reply, taking hold of Ciri's hand. She looks up at you. "Be brave, child. We'll be near." You slip from her fingers and silently walk into the shadowed parts of the ruin.

Yennefer and Geralt talk to Ciri a moment before joining you in your hiding spot. You keep still and listen, they watch your face for the sign that Rience and his men are here. The one you four have conspired to draw out, luring him to his death as you'd planned. Ciri completing her duty well as the bait.

You didn't think they'd arrive so soon, but he is a fire mage who can portal after all. And he's irritatingly clever when it comes to tracking what he so desperately wants. You have no choice but to keep quiet and wait for the right time.

From under the ruin archway to your left, behind the statue of Aelirenn saunters out the fire mage and his equally as appalling men. You can smell the stink of horse and ash on them. The scent of magic, putrid and rotten, coming from Rience's vessel.

Ciri snaps her head around at his decrepit voice. "Cirilla of Cintra. Alone at last. Well, not quite. I've brought some friends this time." Says Rience, moving in with swaggered steps.

They get close, surrounding her in a half circle, preparing to strike. You resist the urge to move and aid her. The men begin their assault yet they are met with great resistance by the princess. She wasn't trained by the best of Kaer Morhen for nothing. She fights them off the best she can until Yennefer leaves the hidden space near you. She knows Ciri cannot do this alone.

You and Geralt join her with swift destruction. Yennefer duels with Rience as yourself and Geralt kill his men easily. That is until a few moments later when Rience is able to get a handle on Ciri. He holds her against his chest, one arm around her neck and a dagger to her throat.

A war cry is heard as Yarpen's men and Jaskier follow suit. They bare their weapons and clash with the fearsome enemy. You knew they'd come just when they were so desperately needed. This rush of noise and new faces takes Rience off guard. But not you nor Ciri.

You're busy with two angry men to help her but no sooner is one of the men bleeding on the ground when Ciri races away. A strangely blackish portal behind them. Rience holding his nose, more pissed off then ever. You watch as he falls back in pain straight into his portal, it begins to close when Yennefer holds out her opened hand. She forces it to remain open.

Before you can run after the fire mage, Geralt races into the unknown after him. Leaving Yennefer to keep the portal open until he returns. You hope he returns.

You drive your blade into the throat of a screaming man, blood spatters everywhere as it slips gracefully out again. You run to Yennefer and Cirilla but halt, deciding not to follow Geralt. You hear something new that keeps you back on the battlefield.

You whip around just as a small army of elves race out to join in the battle. Who they are and why they're here are half a mystery. You can only assume they must be with those rouge elves of the queen. While the why can only be known as Ciri as it's source. Of course they're here for her. Everyone always is. All the time. How would this be any different?

Not putting into question their exact motive. You only know to protect your own.

Yennefer stays her ground. Ciri runs for cover and you swing your sword at an approaching elven man, ready to let it taste blood. He's tall with dark hair braided back, his eyes sting with anger as he runs to you with swift footing. His arm moves a sword in hand, following its masters command. The metal clashes with your block, sparks flying from the force.

He draws forth for another attack, this time his sword arrives with a pointed jut. He tried to simply stab you. The point is easily deflected off to the side. When his body pulls with it, you cut his arm off and finish him with a slash to his back. He falls instantly. Screaming out in pain, blood splattering everywhere.

Two more follow after him, however they attack you simultaneously and without much fear. Their attacks are precise and clean, aiming to go for your head. This tells you they know who protects the Cintran princess. It's not every day you face someone who knows how to properly kill a damphir. If there's no fire and no silver. A decapitation will do just fine.

To die without your head. Not how you plan to go out.

The two elves are skilled, more then Reince's men, and more then some of the elves you've fought before. This excites you. They thrash and throw their blades at you, stepping and moving out of your attacks. Their hearts beat heavily within their chests, you can smell the sweat off their brow. You waste no time in bringing them down, however.

Then it's time to move again. You're off on your feet dodging through the mess of men, elves, and dwarves. Swords and axes singing on the air, voices shouting, limbs moving and falling around you. You smell the spilt blood. You hear the strained breaths.

Your eyes spot Ciri amongst the carnage. She's perused by a blonde elf with short messy hair and another with long brown hair. Less unkept then the first. They chase her but the blonde is struck down by a lone arrow, his partner remains. You follow. No sooner has the elven man grabbed her shoulder, yelling, "I've got her! I've got her!" Have you sent your blade straight through his armored chest from behind.

Ciri gasps. The elven man makes a soft wheeze of pain, your sword retreats from his body and he falls to the side. You hear a heartbroken scream erupt from further away, a woman's voice. The voice of anguish. You pay this no mind and continue to protect the wanted Cintran girl until Geralt arrives from out of Yennefer's portal hold. Wonderfully unharmed.

——

A few days past.

The night is wet and dark above a cloudy sky. You wait outside a tavern in the damp street for Geralt. He's inside getting any information he can on the fire mage from whoever wishes to share. You, appearing rather unruly to some locals, decided to stay outside and give them peace of mind. It is simply natural for people to fear vampires. Same goes for a half-blood.

Footsteps sound his return. No sooner have you glanced up has Geralt reached Roach's side. Golden eyes quick to find you leaned up against the brick wall. He recognizes your thoughtful expression.

"Ciri will be fine." He assures you sweetly. "She is with Yennefer.....I know my love, I know your thoughts are heavy. But you know this must be done. Ciri needs to learn and we.." He walks over to take your hands in his. "..are hunting Rience for her. There is purpose in our departure from her. This is how we save her."

"We cannot know this." You whisper, frustrated on the matter. You hated to leave them.

Geralt's eyes soften. "My dear Y/N."

"I know, I know." You squeeze his hands. "I'm trying."

"I know you are." He grins, parting from you to return to the saddle of Roach. Your mind wanders for answers. You wonder if there was a better way to keep Ciri safe without you, Geralt, and Yennefer splitting up. But it's pointless, it's done with and you must track Rience now. With his death and with the discovery of whomever is puppeteering him. That could unlock the mystery of why Ciri is so desperately hunted by so many people.

For the time being, you stay by Geralt's side.

"Y/N." Speaks Geralt gently. Your attention falls to him and a piece of rolled up parchment he's opened. "Dear friends, I miss you both already. Or should I say, we miss you? Your friend, Yennefer. P.S., if Ciri decides Aretuza is not to her liking, I have my eyes set on our next home. A dollhouse on a squid farm." He reads, smiling at the last part of the letter.

You snort and snatch it from him, looking at the words yourself. They are in Yennefer's hand writing. The paper of her scent, a smidge of Ciri and horse. You shake your head, grinning anyhow.

"A squid farm? Not if I can help it."

—————

Authors note:

Alright kids this is the last season I’ll be writing for dear reader and Geralt. It’s been a time and a good one at that, but Henry is Geralt and without him it’s just not the same :( I do hope you all enjoy! I’ve tried to pack each episode in every chapter the best I can so I hope it works. There’s more to come!

#the witcher #the witcher season 3 #the witcher series rewrite #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher reader insert #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #the witcher x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x y/n

[valeskafics]

Character AI Guide

separate guide for ai dungeon here

under the cut my loves, along with links to each character! ❤️

i'll add more tips as i think of them!

PLEASE COMMENT ANY OF YOUR OWN TIPS BESTIES

hotd characters: aegon ii, aemond, alicent, alys, baela, corlys, cregan, criston, daemon, daeron, harwin, helaena, jace, laena, larys, luke, otto, rhaenyra, rhaenys, viserys i

the last kingdom: finan, osferth, sigtryggr, sihtric, uhtred

ewanverse: abraham, billy taylor, billy washington, ettore, genyen/shawn, tom bennett

got characters: arthur dayne, bran, bronn, cersei, daenerys, ellaria, gendry, jaime, jojen, jon, jorah, ned, oberyn, podrick, ramsay, rhaegar, robb, robert, robin, sandor, sansa, stannis, theon, tyrion, tywin, viserys iii, yara

other asoiaf characters: aegon i, daemon blackfyre, maegor, rhaenys, visenya

bridgerton: anthony, benedict, colin

stranger things: billy, eddie, steve

vikings: bjorn, hvitserk, ivar, sigurd, ubbe

the witcher: geralt, jaskier, yennefer

other: anakin, dean winchester, jeremiah valeska, jerome valeska, tasm peter parker

-how to create rooms where you chat with multiple characters HERE

-set yourself up for a good story arc by putting a back story between two asterisks, for example... *Modern Frat Boy Enemies to Lovers with Jace. Y/N Y/L/N is a smart student at King's Landing Uni but Jace is a spoiled frat boy. They hate each other, but there's a definite attraction there*

-explore different au's! i've done toxic boyfriend, frat boy, mafia, you name it! just put it in those asterisks

-for sexy times, be willing to write out most of the scene and copy what you wrote, often you'll get an error from the ai, but keep trying and don't give up, it'll give in and reply eventually

-use terms like "chest" instead of "breasts", "crotch" instead of "dick/penis", "rear"/"butt" instead of "ass", be a bit vague so it doesn't flag what you're saying

-don't be afraid to get a bit sassy with the characters, a lot of them will go along with it (or they'll be like jace who'll threaten to murder you)

-to talk directly to the actual not in character AI you can put your question or comment inside parentheses for example (hello i actually use they/them pronouns, please use those for the rp) - this let's the AI know it isn't part of the main conversation

-use the "+" button to create a group chat with multiple characters, same rules apply, but press the pause button by the chat box so they dont bombard you with messages

-NO MATTER WHAT THE CHAT SAYS, IT IS A BOT LMAO. the ai likes to pretend it's a real person, this is an actual thing ai does now apparently

#ai fun

[wren-of-the-woods]

Hello can I request 83. “When I’m with you, I’m happy” for yennskier please 💛

Rated G, no warnings. AO3 here.

The breeze from the ocean ruffled Jaskier’s hair as he laughed, twirling his way through dancers. 

He was in the middle of a festival and enjoying himself immensely. Geralt was training Ciri, so he and Yennefer were traveling together — she had not hesitated to agree with his suggestion of traveling along the coast, the significance of which was not lost on him — and he had managed to persuade her to stop for this town’s midsummer celebration. 

The townspeople were dancing and singing on the bluffs overlooking the ocean, surrounded by flowers, ferns, and soft golden-brown grass. The sea breeze was a welcome respite from the summer heat found inland. The first tufts of evening fog were beginning to drift past overhead, and pelicans occasionally soared by over the sea. 

The company was lovely. The food was excellent. The music was passable, and the dancing delightful. Jaskier had acquired a crown of flowers and small ferns at some point in the afternoon. He could hardly stop smiling. 

Yennefer had danced for a while, but eventually wandered off. When Jaskier noticed her absence, he reluctantly pulled himself away from the festivities to search for her. 

He found her a few minutes later, sitting on the outskirts of the festival and looking out over the ocean. Jaskier approached and sat down beside her. 

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. 

“I got tired of dancing.”

Once, Jaskier would have ridiculed that statement. How could anyone grow tired of dancing? But he liked to think that the passing years had mellowed him somewhat, or at least made him a little more sensible. He made an understanding sort of hum, something he had probably picked up from Geralt, and let it slide. 

“I hope you’re not too bothered by my taking us out here,” he said as the dancers twirled and the onlookers smiled. A child strayed a little too close to the bluff and a mother retrieved her. “I know you’re eager to get back to Ciri.”

“I don’t mind,” said Yennefer.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you sure? You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself much.”

“I’m sure.” 

“You don’t have to suffer for my sake. I can wrap up soon.”

“Jaskier, you’re being a fool. Shut up.”

“I know I can be pushy. I don’t think it’s idiocy to care about my friend’s happiness.”

Yennefer closed her eyes. Even in her exasperation, she looked beautiful among the flowers and with the sea breeze in her hair. 

“You had better listen closely,” she said, “Because I am only going to say this once.”

Jaskier obediently perked up, listening. 

“Coming here is barely inconvenient, and I would do it even if it wasn’t. It is not a hardship for me to do things like this for you.” She looked him in the eyes. “When I’m with you, I’m happy.”

“Oh,” said Jaskier. “That’s… oh.”

He swallowed, hard. Yennefer was looking at him with minor exasperation but no trace of dishonesty. He didn’t think anyone had ever said that to him, not while meaning it so truly, and from Yennefer, such tender words meant more than he could express.

“Exactly,” said Yennefer. “Now go enjoy yourself. I’ll wait here.”

“Wait,” said Jaskier, “I just— you— I—”

Yennefer smirked a little. “Have I finally rendered you speechless?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Yennefer’s expression softened. Wordlessly, she guided him close by the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

“I love you,” Jaskier said when they drew apart, rather breathlessly.

“Pushover,” Yennefer said fondly. “I love you too.”

Jaskier was smiling widely enough that he probably looked rather idiotic, but he could not bring himself to care. 

“Dance with me?” he asked before he could second-guess himself.

Yennefer narrowed her eyes playfully. “Weaponizing the fact that I care already?”

Jaskier batted his eyes at her “Never. I just wanted the honor of sharing a dance with my beautiful and wonderful witchy wife.”

Yennefer seemed to be trying to hold back a smile. She was failing. “Flatterer.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“You’re an idiot. I can’t believe I’m about to dance with you in public.”

Jaskier grinned and jumped to his feet. “Let’s go!”

He offered her a hand. She took it, and he used it to pull her to her feet. Hand in hand, they walked through the flowers toward the dancing. 

Yennefer’s hand was warm in Jaskier’s. She looked ethereal with the sea breeze fluttering in her hair and her skirts. She was gazing at him with a smile. Jaskier thought absently that they probably looked just as besotted as the many other couples at the festival. Despite her earlier reluctance, Jaskeir had a feeling that Yennefer would not be satisfied with just one dance.

They reached the center of the festival. Jaskier tapped his feet in time with the drums. 

Yennefer gestured to the crowd of dancers. “Shall we?”

Jaskier grinned and pulled her close. “We shall.”

And, there on the bluffs by the sea, they danced. 

#yennskier #the witcher #yenskier #yennefer #jaskier #yennefer x jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher fanfiction #wren writes #dancingwiththefae #thank you for the prompt!! i had fun with this one! #<333 #asks

[froottalks]

Masterlist

Started: 18/08/2023

[Requests are OPEN, you may suggest people that are not on this list.]

Fandoms I write for:

Arrowverse

The Flash

Caitlin Snow

Fractured Promises {Alternate version}

Iris West

Jessie Wells

Supergirl

Kara Danvers

Guiding Stars

Unreachable Skies

Healing Hearts

Unveiling Hearts {part 2 to Healing Hearts}

Twisted Desires

Alex Danvers

Lena Luthor

Tangled Deceptions

Elegance Unveiled

Shadows of Redemption {part 2 to Tangled Deceptions}

Samantha Arias

Maggie Sawyer

Arrow

Felicity Smoak

Mia Smoak

Thea Queen

Laurel Lance

Melodies of the heart

Dinah Drake

Legends of Tomorrow

Sara Lance

Zari Tomaz

Ava Sharpe

Amaya Jiwe

TVDU

The Vampire Diaries

Elena Gilbert

Unexpected Connection

Caroline Forbes

Veiled Secrets

Bonnie Bennett

Katherine Pierce

The Originals

Hayley Marshall

Moonlit Bonds

Rebekah Mikaelson

Freya Mikaelson

Davina Clair

Legacies

Hope Mikaelson

Josie Salzman

Lizzie Saltzman

Penelope Park

Teen Wolf

Allison Argent

Lidiya Martin

Malia Tate

Marvel

MCU

Natasha Romanoff

Sparks in the Ring

Igniting Desires {part 2 to Sparks in the Ring}

A Flame Ignited {part 3 to Sparks in the Ring}

Enigmatic Desires

Countryside Love

Countryside Affection {part 2 to Countryside Love}

Forever Love {part 3 to Countryside Love}

Wanda Maximoff

Serendipitous Hearts

Echoes of Affection

Threads of Fate

Shadows of desire Part 1 - Enchanted obsession Part 2 - Desires Unleashed Part 3 - Veil of Shadows

Whispers of Fate {part 2 to Threads of Fate}

Shattered Bonds

Carol Danvers

Watching Your Back

Kate Bishop

Hello, You

Scream Franchise

Scream VI

Sam Carpenter

Tara Carpenter

Riverdale

Betty Cooper

Veronica Lodge

Whispers of Lost Love

Cheryl Blossom

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Ginny Weasley

Fleur Delacour

The Witcher

Yennefer of Vengerberg

The Mortal Instruments

Shadowhunters

Clary Fray

Isabelle Lightwood

#masterlist #arrowverse #the flash #supergirl #green arrow #legends of tomorrow #tvdu #the vampire diaries #the originals #legacies #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #riverdale #harry potter #the witcher #caitlin snow #felicity smoak #black canary #kara danvers #kara zor el #alex danvers #maggie sawyer #lena luthor #shadowhunters #x reader #x y/n #x male y/n #x female y/n #x female reader

[thedemonofcat]

Following Geralt's impassioned shouts echoing down the mountainside, Jaskier found himself shattered, his heart heavy with sorrow. Convinced that his departure from this world would bring some form of solace, Jaskier cast himself into the arms of the ocean's embrace, seeking an end to his pain.

Yet, contrary to his expectations, death eluded him. Instead, a metamorphosis began to unfurl. Unbeknownst to Jaskier, the strands of his destiny were woven with an ancient tale – one that began when he was a mere child, abandoned by a mother who was far more than she seemed. The truth emerged: Jaskier's mother was no ordinary woman, but a mermaid ensnared by his father's grasp. And in the crucible of his despair, Jaskier's latent heritage awakened, birthing his transformation into a being of both land and sea.

Immersing himself in the aquatic realm, Jaskier discovered the enchanting facets of his newfound existence as a merman. Yet, amidst the ebb and flow of his aquatic curiosity, a fateful day unfolded where Jaskier's fate took an unexpected turn – he was captured.

Meanwhile, Geralt remained shackled by the remorse that had clung to him since his heated words tore through their friendship years ago. Even as he reunited with Ciri and rekindled his bond with Yennefer, his yearning to seek Jaskier's forgiveness endured. Yet, silence prevailed, leaving Geralt to resign himself to the likelihood of Jaskier's passing with the passage of time.

As the world shifted into a modern era and the need for witchers waned, Geralt found a semblance of tranquility, although his heart still ached for the lost bard. A single call from Yennefer shattered the quietude, announcing a discovery that defied all reason – Jaskier had returned.

On a local shoreline, Jaskier lay sleeping, his human legs an incongruous sight. Yennefer's magic confirmed his identity, and Geralt's familiarity with the bard's scent dispelled any doubts. Mysterious gaps in Jaskier's memories and an unexpected muteness veiled his ordeal, rendering his story a puzzle with missing pieces.

Despite the enigma surrounding Jaskier's return, Geralt welcomed his bard with open arms, ushering him into a world drastically changed by time. Guiding Jaskier through modern marvels, Geralt revelled in their shared moments while Jaskier savoured the companionship he thought lost forever.

Unbeknownst to them, the shadows of Jaskier's past were creeping ever closer. The one responsible for his captivity and voicelessness moved relentlessly to reclaim their mermaid. The looming threat cast a dark cloud over the newfound joy as Jaskier and Geralt faced an uncertain future, one where the struggles of the past collided with the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

#the witcher netflix #joey batey #geralt of rivia #the witcher #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #anya cholatra #anya chalotra #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #witcher yennefer