#overprotective geralt

[casually-eat-my-soul]

I just recently rewatched the Witcher and WOLF WITCHER DEREK HALE and jaskier coded Stiles. I absolutely love the witcher and teen wolf and their ideas kinda overlap.

Geralt and Derek have to same character dynamic —Grumpy, I could kill you on sight, only soft for one person, enough gulit in their shoulders to kill atlas. But in the end a good person who wants to be good, (Derek wanting to be a good alpha, Geralt wanting to be a knight)

Stiles and jaskier have the same coded character, uses a mask to hide the real him in public, cunning and smart, sarcastic little shits, someone who has an infinite patience for a grumpy man.

I’m going to go a little off script because although derek and stiles fit the mold of the character archetypes they would have different backgrounds/motives

So for Derek I’m picturing:

maybe he was from a rich family that were killed by the Argents (Kate 🤢) and he goes to Kaer Morhen (the wolf school) and goes through the trails. Boys his age don’t really survive the trails so the fact that he did made him the strongest to survive so they put him through the trails again making him the “alpha”. The hale pack Erica, Boyd, and Issac were also from the wolf school. He later gets called “the butcher” after he finds Kate later on and kills he and a few knights.

Or

He was dropped off at the wolf school as a child and Talia takes him under her wing as he goes through the mutagen’s that turn him into a Witcher. Kate is one of the witches that are working on the boys, she manipulated him and uses him to sack Kaer Morhen leading to the death of most of the hale pack. Peter goes feral and he is forced to put him down leading to the nickname butcher.

For Stiles there are many different option one could go with because although he shares many traits with jaskier I cannot see him as a bard. Maybe he’s also a Witcher from the cat school who ends up traveling with Derek after it gets a little to dangerous to as a lone Witcher.

Maybe he’s a traveling healer/herbalist/apothecary who keeps running into Derek and healing him. He graduated from Oxford, and helped smuggle out elves into safer locations(spy stiles). Maybe Derek trusts him to save him because stiles smuggled him out of an argent jail cell, a move that could have cost Stiles his life. So as a thank you Derek swears to help protect him in times of need (overprotective bodyguard Derek, my beloved). Stiles allowing Derek to play out his knight fantasy by protecting him.

“Looking after you is my duty”

“Is that the only reason you do it?” (Taken from Epic the movie)

Or maybe Stiles is a spark, he studied at one of the main mage school like Aretuza, and joined the brotherhood. While there he finds a conspiracy to create new Witcher loyal to the crown and the mage schools. One of the trails, Scott. So he grabs Scott and betrays the brotherhood, leading him to seek out Derek to help. Together with the hale pack the take down the corrupt leader and the argents.

There are so many options but the potential is so amazing!! Derek who hates everyone but stiles. The soft intimacy of their interactions. Stiles healing Derek in soft candlelight, light touches on his skin as not to overwhelm him. Derek being surround by stiles scent, a safe place to rest.

[thedemonofcat]

For as long as Jaskier can remember, he’s dreamed of traveling the world as a bard.

Unfortunately, he was born with epilepsy.

His parents, fearful for his safety, refused to let him stray far from the manor—let alone leave Lettenhove. But Jaskier eventually grew tired of their overprotectiveness and ran away.

In Oxenfurt, he was lucky enough to find a special tonic that kept his seizures at bay. It wasn’t that he was deliberately hiding his condition from Geralt—it just never really came up.

That is, until Nilfgaard captured him. His jailers had little concern for his well-being, and without his tonic, the inevitable happened. By the time Geralt rescued him and brought him to Kaer Morhen, the chaos of it all made Jaskier forget just how long he’d gone without proper medication.

So when he suddenly collapses in the middle of Kaer Morhen, seizing uncontrollably, Geralt absolutely loses it.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Puppy love

Masterlist

Starring: Dad!August, Mike, guest appearance; Syverson

Summary: August is not happy when his daughter first starts dating 'that Syverson boy'.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Fluff, overprotective dad!August, family drama, teen angst, super-duper unreasonable parents, and vague mentions of teens having sex, I guess that needs a warning or something?

A/N: And now for something completely different... Written from August's POV. Unfortunately, he got married, and they had a baby, and unfortunately the baby was a girl, who is now unfortunately 16 years old, and unfortunately wants to date boys, who unfortunately happens to be the son of his college rival; James Syverson. 80% of this fic is just August being on the verge of having a fucking heart attack because of teen shenanigans. And they're not even that bad.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @littlefreya @mayloma @summersong69 @livisss @winter2112rose @changenameno @wa-ni (still not allowed to tag you, sorry :( )

“Daddy, come on, it’s just a date!”

“Princess, you’re too young to date.”

“Oh my god! Mom!” She stormed out of the kitchen, and you foolishly thought you could pick up the paper again. “Please talk some sense into dad!”

And there she was again. Both of them, even. You sighed and put the paper back down.

“August, for the love of God, she’s sixteen! She can date!” Your wife put her hands on her hips — you hated it when she did that.

“Not with that...” You struggled to find the words without letting the entire house in on why exactly you didn’t approve of this boy. Other than him wanting to do unspeakable things to your daughter, of course.

“He’s a sweet kid,” your wife said, rolling her eyes — you hated it when she did that, too.

“He’s a Syverson!” you blurted out. “She’s not going out with the son of that sleazy, good-for-nothing son of a—”

“Only if you can say it in church, August!” You didn’t even go to church! Neither did your wife, but it was her go-to way of keeping you from swearing, and as much as you hated to admit it, it worked.

“Junior can forget it,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Go get ready, sweetie,” your wife said to your daughter. Your blood was boiling. Did you have absolutely no authority in your own damn house? Not usually, no... “I’ll have a chat with your father.”

“So, you want to take my daughter out?” You took pleasure in staring the boy in front of you down, and you were pleased to report he was scared to death. Or at least he had the decency to fake it.

“Yes, sir,” he said, swallowing audibly, “we’re going to see a movie. I’ll have her home by eleven.”

“Ten,” you replied brusquely.

“Dad!” your daughter squealed as she came down the stairs. “Can you be normal for like... Five seconds? Mom! He’s doing it again; he’s ruining my life!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, princess!” you scoffed.

“August, that’s enough!” You glared at your wife, who turned to the boy in front of you.

“You two have fun,” she said. “Bring her back in one piece, James.”

“Eh, it’s Mike, ma’am.” He didn’t look at her as he said it.

“I’m sorry?”

“My middle name is Michael. I’m not overly fond of the whole ‘Junior’ thing,” he admitted. “Anyway. When is her curfew, exactly? I really don’t want to get her in trouble.”

“Then leave—ow!” Maybe you deserved that kick in the shins.

“She’s late,” you grumbled. “And I mean he brought her home late.”

“Oh, August, please! They’re right outside, you can hear them!” She rolled her eyes at you again.

“There’s too much giggling if you ask me,” you sneered. And right when you said it, the giggling stopped — which was far more disconcerting, as far as you were concerned.

“August, don’t,” your wife sighed as you got off the couch and walked towards the front door.

“That’s quite enough, young man,” you snapped when you pulled the door open and were met with the unpleasant sight of the Syverson boy harassing your precious little girl. That had to be it, right?

“Dad, oh my god! Stop embarrassing me!” She let out a frustrated scream and turned to Mike. “I’m so sorry, Mike... I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

As soon as the door closed behind her, you knew you were in for it.

“Dad, you are certifiably insane, okay? It was just a kiss, for fuck’s sake!”

“Language, young lady!” you tried, but you were fairly sure you’d find no backup in this case. Your wife was staring you down from the couch in the living room.

“No, dad,” she yelled. “You’re nuts. That’s it. Why can’t you just be normal? Why do you have to be crazy? You just totally humiliated me, like...”

“Princess, I’m just trying to protect you,” you said as you reached out to pull her into a hug, but she pushed you away.

“Daddy, I’m serious! We went to the movies, we had a really nice time and then he drove me home and so what if he kissed me? Like, you didn’t have to show up like that, acting like a complete psycho. It was beyond cringe! I’m literally mortified, like what were you even thinking?” She sighed dramatically and threw her hands up. “Whatever. I’m going to my room. Stay out of my business!”

“Well, that went... Well,” you said as you sat down on the couch, with the — admittedly false — hope of getting some sympathy from your lovely wife.

“No, August, it did not.”

“Ok, so, we’ll be in my room,” she said, already tugging Mike along towards the stairs, and before you could say anything, they were gone.

“Hold on—” you started, but your wife grabbed your elbow, calming you down slightly. But only slightly.

“Let them,” she sighed, the sound cutting through you like a knife, “remember when we were young?” She wrapped her arms around your neck and kissed you, and it took everything to not push her away, knowing where her mind was — with her sixteen-year-old self, in her bedroom, fooling around with her high school sweetheart: none other than James Syverson.

Yes, James Syverson senior, the father of the boy who was upstairs with your daughter right now... The man who had beat you for captain of the football team. Twice. The man who had made a pass at your then-girlfriend when you were years into dating her and she was wearing your ring and your jacket with your name on it. Twice. Was it really so weird that you trusted his son about as far as you could throw him?

Soft lips on your neck pulled you away from your thoughts. “Try to remember that I married you?”

You smiled at her before leaning in for a kiss, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. “I’m a lucky man.”

“Ew, gross. Can you, like, not?”

A devilish smile played at your wife’s lips for a moment before she kissed you again a tad too theatrically.

“Oh my god, stop it! You’re old!” The look of disgust on your daughter’s face was absolutely priceless. “This is a kitchen! It’s a communal space!”

“So is the porch, princess,” you replied.

“How many times do I have to tell you two; this door stays open—oh for the love of God! I don’t need to see that!”

“Then by all means, dad, leave the door closed!” You caught the pillow she threw at you, and Mike made a point of moving as far away from her as the bed would allow while mumbling an apology.

Your wife had been right — which you were never telling her, which didn’t even matter because she already knew, anyway — and Mike really wasn’t a bad kid. That didn’t mean you were okay with him feeling up your daughter, though. Or worse.

“We’re not doing that, princess. Nice try though.”

On your way downstairs, you were fairly sure you heard the bedroom door close again and you sighed.

“It’s okay, love,” your wife said as she wrapped her arms around you.

“It’s not,” you sighed. “I wish that boy would keep his filthy paws off our daughter.” Was it genuinely too much to ask for her to find a nice, non-hormonal boy her age who only wanted to sit next to her on the couch and hold her hand under strict parental supervision?

“Yes, August, that’s entirely too much to ask,” your wife snickered. You hadn’t even realized you’d actually voiced your thoughts. “Boys like that don’t exist. I remember you when you were eighteen… We were doing much worse things than they are.”

“But we were in college. Can’t we just… ban him from the house?” You slumped down on the couch and took the cup of coffee your wife was now holding out to you.

“We could,” she said, and for the first time, a smile appeared on your face that she managed to wipe off immediately: “But I’ve seen the inside of that car he drives.”

It had been an interesting phone call, at one o’clock in the morning, from your daughter’s best friend’s mother, asking if her daughter had come home yet.

“How would I know that?” you had snapped at her. Surely, she didn’t expect you to know who was in her house in the middle of the night? It was her house…

“Because she’s staying with you,” the concerned mother had answered.

“Ah,” you answered, grabbing your wife’s shoulder and shaking her until she was awake. “We were under the impression that our daughter was staying with you.”

Your wife had called Mike’s parents, who had also established that their son was not where he was supposed to be.

Long story short: Everyone was in serious trouble.

And now you were on your way to some club, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, and you barely managed to stifle a yawn. In the passenger seat, your wife threatened to drift off to sleep. The only reason you had taken her with you was so you wouldn’t make a gigantic scene — no matter how much that was exactly what you wanted to do.

Syverson and his wife were already there, attempting to convince the bouncer to let them into the club without paying some ridiculous entrance fee, while your daughter’s friend’s parents stood off to the side, looking more and more nervous by the minute.

Your wife walked to the door. “Now you listen to me, pal,” she snapped. “My daughter is in there and if you don’t want me to get everyone here fired and then sue this place to high heavens for letting minors in, then you let us go in there and look for her right now, or so help me God!” She could be impressively scary, you noted as a smile slowly grew on your face.

She paced back to you and scowled at you when you kissed her on the forehead. “What the hell was that for?”

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” you said.

Your kids were, indeed, inside. They — your daughter and Mike, at least — were unlucky enough that you were the one to find them. Dancing. If you could call it that — and you quickly decided that you absolutely couldn’t call it that.

The music — again; if you could call it that — was incredibly loud, giving you a headache on top of your already particularly murderous mood, and you held on to your last shred of self-restraint with all your might to make sure you wouldn’t genuinely murder your daughter’s… boyfriend. Even just thinking the word made you want to punch something. Him, preferably.

Mike spotted you first, and you felt an overwhelming sense of pride when his face morphed into an expression of complete and utter terror. He also had the common sense to step away from your daughter immediately, who looked up around at him when she felt Mike suddenly disappear from behind her. He pointed at you, and she turned around again. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Good.

With a single finger, you beckoned them both to come over, and when they were standing in front of you, you dragged them both outside.

“What were you thinking?” your wife snapped at your daughter, who looked up at you.

“Daddy, I…” You just shook your head and let your wife handle this.

When she was done — your daughter was now grounded for a month — you turned to Mike: “And your involvement in this was…?”

“They wanted to see the DJ, and I… I told them I could sneak them in. It was stupid and irresponsible—”

“Not to mention illegal.”

“—yes, that too. I’m sorry.” Mike looked down, clearly doing his best not to tremble visibly. He failed. Good.

“How’d you even swing this, James?” Mike’s dad wanted to know, his wife standing behind him, clearly trying very hard to keep her mouth shut to prevent herself from saying something she’d regret.

“It’s Mike,” Mike corrected.

“Not when I’m this goddamn mad at you it isn’t, son.”

“Hello, mrs. Walker,” Mike greeted your wife while handing her a bouquet of flowers. You rolled your eyes, even though you had no reason to. He handed a second bouquet — it was just a handful of daisies — to your daughter. “Thank you for the invitation.”

It wasn’t exactly n invitation you’d been all too excited to extend, but alas. Here he was again. Maybe grounding them hadn’t been such a good idea (even though you’d laughed at Syverson’s idea to have Mike’s punishment start two weeks later than your daughter’s, so that they’d have to go without each other for longer), because now they were just unnecessarily and inappropriately touchy.

“Thank you, Mike, these are lovely,” your wife said as she handed you the flowers. “August, darling, could you put these in a vase, please?”

You were glad to have something to do. “Of course, my angel.”

“Gross,” your daughter said while rolling her eyes, and you glared at her, biting your tongue to keep yourself from making your sarcastic remark.

“Eh,” Mike shrugged, “my parents are worse. I think it’s sweet.”

You watched over the edge of the newspaper while Mike helped your daughter set the table, while your wife continuously glanced at you in her signature ‘I told you so’ kind of way. You had already tentatively agreed with her that he wasn’t a bad kid! What more did she want?

Dinner was unbearable, and your wife had to warn you more than once to stop cutting your food so hard you nearly sawed your way through your plate on more than one occasion, and you gritted your teeth as you tried to focus on your dinner instead of watching the two lovebirds. At least they were trying to keep it decent, which was much appreciated, but it didn’t necessarily make things much easier for you.

“What did you tell her?” you asked your wife — calmly, you hoped — when your daughter slammed the door behind her after an unusually quick escape from the house.

“Not much,” she answered. You knew for a fact she’d been pretty on top of the sex ed stuff for years now. “A reminder that she shouldn’t do things she isn’t ready for. And to use protection.”

“Hmm.” Whether you were finally getting used to the idea of your daughter going out with Michael Syverson, or your wife and her relentless support of their relationship had finally worn you down, you didn’t exactly know.

“August,” she said as she sat down next to you and leaned into your side, “I know you’re trying to protect her, but you can’t stop this. It’ll happen sooner or later. Sooner, rather than—”

“I know,” you growled.

“You were sixteen when—”

“I know.” It hurt to clench your teeth the way you did, but it was all you could do to stop yourself from screaming. “If he hurts her…”

“She takes after you, dear,” your wife chuckled. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“He asked you to where now?” Your eyebrows shot up a mile and at least a month’s worth of acceptance disappeared like snow in the desert when your daughter told you the news that Mike had asked her to prom.

“Prom, dad. You kn—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you don’t have—”

“Senior prom, dad. His prom.”

“You’re a sophomore,” you grumbled, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Yes, dad, Mike asked me, a sophomore, to go with him, a senior, to his senior prom, which I wouldn’t be able to go to unless I was invited by a senior. Like him. Can you exit psycho dad-mode for three seconds? Can I please go?” Your wife had been right when she said your daughter took after you in many ways, but damn if she didn’t have her eyes. And you were powerless against those.

“Yes, princess,” you sighed softly. “You can go.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck, and for the first time in months you saw a little more of your princess and a little less of the teenage monstrosity she’d grown into over the past few years. Apart from the horrible shrieking in your ear, that was.

“Can you do me one favor, please?”

“Tell me you’re not asking to approve my dress, or whatever?” Ah, there she was again. The monstrosity.

“Take your mother shopping for it. She’d like that.” And, hopefully, she’d come home with something halfway presentable, at least.

The doorbell rang at seven o’clock on the dot. At least Syverson had bothered to teach his boy some manners. He handed another stunning bouquet to your wife — which might have been more impressive if his mother hadn’t owned the flower shop in town — and nervously fidgeted with the box that held a rather beautiful corsage. No doubt also a courtesy of his mom.

“That’s a very nice tux, Mike,” your wife said with a smile in an attempt to diffuse the ever-growing tension in the hallway while you waited for your daughter to finally finish getting ready.

“Thanks, it’s mine,” he answered. “Dad has a ridiculously big family; I have a million cousins… lots of weddings.”

“Hey.” You all turned to the source of the sound; the voice of your daughter standing at the top of the stairs.

“Holy sh—” Mike cleared his throat — smart move. “Wow. You look… wow.” He rushed towards her to help her down the last few steps of the stairs.

“You look good too,” she said shyly.

“Not next to you, I don’t,” he managed — but barely.

As you watched Mike awkwardly trying to help your daughter with the corsage, memories of your own prom came flooding back to you, and you couldn’t fight a smile off your face. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of course, but the sight of them was simply too… adorable to stay mad about. Next to you, your wife grabbed your hand and squeezed it. She had tears in her eyes, you noticed, when she rushed past you to get the camera.

“Mom. Mom, stop. You took like four thousand pictures already, it’s enough. Enough! Please, let us leave, we’re going to miss the whole thing… Mom! Dad, tell mom she’s being insane!” Finally, you weren’t the one who was considered insane!

“I think that’s plenty, darling,” you said as you pulled your wife back and put a hand on the camera to get her to lower it. “Get out, you two, I only have so much to say around here. Have fun… but not too much fun.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” your wife added.

You rolled your eyes. “Like that narrows it down.”

“Dad!” your daughter shrieked before pulling Mike towards the door.

Your wife had successfully convinced you that going to bed early would be best. You needed a distraction, after all, and if she was so kind to offer to provide you with one, who were you to refuse her?

It was nearly midnight when you woke up with her curled up next to you, to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. A set of footsteps too many, that was.

“August, don’t,” you heard next to you when you attempted to get out of bed to put a stop to these shenanigans immediately. What did she mean ‘don’t’? You were just supposed to let them… “If it weren’t for you, I’d have let him stay over the first time she asked. Going in there, guns blazing, is not going to make this go away. They’ll find another place. Another time. And I meant what I said about the backseat of that car… If you have any faith in the way we raised our daughter, then trust her.”

Falling asleep again was hard, but nowhere near as hard as not throwing Mike down the stairs when you ran into him a few hours later, when he was on his way to the bathroom.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?’

You took a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself before speaking. “We’ll talk about that over breakfast. I can and will promise you right now, that you’ll be in some real trouble if you sneak out before then.”

“Coffee?” you grumbled when your daughter appeared in the kitchen the following morning, freshly showered, with Mike walking a step behind her.

“Yeah. Thanks,” she whispered as she sat down as far away from you as possible. You looked at the two trembling teens in front of you and realized your wife had been right — yet again — when she had said that if you handled this wrong, they’d never come to you if they were in trouble. Ever.

“It’s been brought to my attention that I may have been a bit… overbearing,” you said, ignoring the eyerolls from both your wife and your daughter. Mike just stared at the table. “And I’m sorry.”

You sighed as three jaws dropped in complete and utter bewilderment. “That being said… The two of you still broke the rules, and he stayed here without permission, which means you, young lady, will be grounded for a week,” you said, watching your daughter grab Mike’s arm. She looked hurt… “Starting tomorrow.” The two exchanged a surprised look and finally smiled.

“Does he have to leave?” she asked carefully.

“No, princess,” you said softly, “he doesn’t.”

“Where’s that ruthless jerk I married?” Your wife wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close while you let out a deep sigh.

“He said ‘I do’,” you grumbled. “And he had a daughter.”

“Daddy?” Your daughter’s voice was soft and small. The hurt in it crushed you, although you had to admit you were relieved to have confirmation that Mike was upstairs in your shower all by himself, if you were honest. “Are you mad at me?”

You reached for her, and she hugged you — almost like she used to. “No, princess, I could never be mad at you.”

“I’m still your—”

“I know,” you whispered.

“Are you mad at Mike?” Her voice got even lower than before, and she avoided your eyes.

“No,” you answered truthfully. “Unless he hurt you in any kind of way, in which case he’s a dead man.”

“Did you forget you forced self defense classes on me until I was a black belt?” she laughed, wiping away the single tear that had escaped her eye.

“That’s my girl.” You couldn’t have fought back the grin if you’d tried.

Your daughter wrestled herself out of your embrace and made her way towards the hallway again, turning around in the doorway. “Ehm, does the door still have to stay open?” she asked innocently.

“I think we’re past that point,” your wife answered, ignoring your exasperated sigh.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered as your daughter sprinted up the stairs.

“Does she know you’re here?” It didn’t take you two guesses to figure out why he was at your door. You actually remembered the moment you knocked on the door of your then-hopefully-soon-to-be-in-laws all too well.

“She does,” he answered, thanking you quickly as you impatiently gestured at him to come in. It was cold out, and money didn’t grow on trees…

“Does she know why?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not here to ask for your permission, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said with a smirk that brought out some residual feelings of wanting to smack him. “I’m actually looking for Mrs. Walker.”

“You’re right not to,” you admitted. “She’d kill you.”

“It’s a bit of a catch-22.” He laughed. “My dad will kill me if I don’t ask, so…”

“So it’s a matter of who you’d rather be murdered by.”

“I think I’ll take my chances with my old man,” he said. “At least he’s not related to you.”

Smart man.

You followed him into the living room, where you found your wife with her nose in the book she hadn’t put down for hours. As soon as Mike walked in, she slammed it shut and put it away.

“Michael, can I help you?” she said in an unusually quirky tone, with an unusually happy smile on her face.

“I think so, yeah,” he stammered. Those nerves were finally kicking in, huh? Good. “I… Eh… She told me something about a ring… eh… her, eh…”

“Her grandmother’s engagement ring?” she helped him along gently.

He nodded furiously. “Yeah. She said that, eh… When the time came, she’d eh… She’d like to wear it. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“God, Mike, I think I’ve never seen you more scared of me than of August,” she laughed, and you gladly joined her, leaving the poor boy standing there with bright red ears and an uneasy smile.

“First time for everything, right?”

Over the years, you’d been subjected to many a feminist lecture on outdated patriarchal values and whatnot, so it had come as quite the surprise to you when your daughter had come to you, asking you if you’d walk her down the aisle. Now that you were standing here, with her to your left, squeezing your arm so tight you feared it would result in lasting damage, you wished you’d declined, so that you’d just have been able to sit quietly next to your wife, instead of being here with no prayer of getting a handle on your own nerves.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice taunting but with an obvious shakiness to it.

“You’re one to talk, princess,” you retorted, “I can barely feel my fingers.”

She relaxed her grip on your arm a bit, chuckling softly. “Will you behave?”

“Me? Always.”

As far as you were concerned, the walk could have lasted forever. You knew it had to end, and it did — way too soon — and all that was left for you to do was…

“I love you, daddy,” she whispered before you managed to move.

“And I love you, princess,” you replied softly. “Always.”

Then, you finally placed her hand in Mike’s. “She’s your problem now, son. And I have a very strict no-return-policy.”

[thelostgirl21]

Alright, so this is a reply to @my-jokes-are-my-armour brilliant additions to my post, because the original one was getting insanely long, and apparently I had lots of feels about this, but asfoljasdfklsf;asldkfas;flkjasdlkjffslksjdf;s...

That "maybe"...

There are so many possible "layers" to that "maybe"!

And that's definitely one the places where Jaskier and Radovid's respective situations massively differ in that scene, too, IMHO.

Like you've said, Jaskier has a found family that he's spent about 20+ years investing in.

So, obviously, it would make absolutely no sense for him to sacrifice the ties he's already built with Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri, for a relationship that does have great potential, but is still in its infancy; whereas Radovid has made no such personal commitments in his life.

I don't know if you're familiar with the YouTube channel "Cinema Therapy" (basically, a psychologist and filmmaker analysing various movie relationships, characters psychology, etc. I highly recommend it!), but they've occasionally spoken about the notion of "shelving your agenda".

Essentially, "shelving your agenda" relates to a person's ability to "temporarily delay one's own needs to meet those of another".

And, in this particular situation, the only one of them that can afford to shelve his own agenda for the other is Radovid.

Because, at that moment, Jaskier is facing the possibility of devastating potential losses within his family system that greatly threaten his emotional and psychological well-being.

Radovid can (or at least could, while Vizimir was the one still wearing that crown) afford to be the one providing him with emotional, physical and financial support to give Jaskier his best chance at being reunited with those he loves.

But Jaskier can't really promise or offer Radovid anything in return for the time being.

And sadly, he doesn't know how bad things are for Radovid at court, either.

He doesn't know that Philippa and Dijkstra orchestrated Queen Hedwig's murder, right under King Vizimir's nose, with such confidence in their ability to get away with it that they openly told the Crown Prince of Redania about it!

He doesn't know about Radovid's relationship dynamic with his brother, and the fact that being the King's little brother is no longer enough to keep Radovid safe in that castle.

And I don't think Jaskier fully grasps just how much being in his presence is already offering Radovid something that's rather essential for his own emotional and psychological well-being, too, that he has never been able to find anywhere else.

Jaskier: "You don't understand. [This is not me trying to walk away from a relationship with you.] The war brewing outside is nothing compared to what Geralt will unleash on this Continent to find his daughter. [I'm pretty much planning to go throw myself headfirst into some desperate suicide mission with a stubborn, insanely protective Witcher dad!] I don't know what happens next. [I've no idea what will happen to me. Out there, none of us will be safe!]"

Radovid: [Oh boy! Where do I even start?] "Just let me be there with you." [Trust me, as terrible as you are trying to make it sound, joining you on a suicide mission following an angry overprotective Witcher around is actually my safest, least bad option.] "Prove that I'm more than a mask." [I belong with you and your family out there, not stuck at court playing games!]

Basically, I've a feeling that Jaskier might be operating under the belief that the safest place for the Crown Prince of Redania to be, in times of war with Nilfgaard, is behind the well guarded walls of a castle; not running around the Continent helping him and Geralt go rescue a Princess!

If he returns to Tretogor and stay there, Radovid will have an entire army standing between him and Nilfgaard!

Which, you know, is pretty much the reason that had convinced him that Ciri might be better off in Redania rather than anywhere else...

If he comes with him, well, Radovid is probably one of the last people you'd want anyone loyal to Nilfgaard to get their hands on.

The King's brother - and sole current living heir to the throne (at the time) - is very much someone that Redania's enemies would want to capture so they can use as leverage against the King.

And Jaskier's pretty much planning on being Geralt's ride or die companion on his quest to find Ciri.

So, I'm not sure how comfortable Jaskier is with the possibility of Radovid getting himself captured by enemies or killed trying to help them out there; or, even worse, winding up sacrificing his life to save Jaskier's.

Because Radovid has already proven that he values Jaskier's safety and freedom above his own, when he ditched his whole (now very dead) royal security detail to go see him and Ciri at the cabin.

Radovid is willing to make Jaskier his #1 priority, in a situation where Jaskier needs to make Geralt, Yennefer and Ciri his own #1 priority.

Jaskier is planning to "shelve his agenda" for his family, to the point of being willing to risk sacrificing his life for them…

…while Radovid is talking about "shelving his agenda" for Jaskier, while being willing to risk sacrificing his life for him, and - by extension - Jaskier's family, too.

It's likely a lot for Jaskier to take in.

And, perhaps, knowing that Radovid - at least - would be safe back in his castle, would give Jaskier some peace of mind, and even something for him to fight to come back to, should he somehow succeed in helping Geralt get Ciri back without managing to get himself killed in the process!

So, Jaskier's "maybe" is likely the most sincere answer Jaskier can give him at the moment, since Jaskier genuinely doesn't know what happens next, and he probably doesn't want Radovid to make the decision to take such a huge risk for himself and his family based on the promise of things that he might never be given the chance to offer him.

Had Jaskier known that the greatest threat Radovid was facing could be found within his castle's well guarded walls, his response to Radovid's desire to be there with him might have been different.

Perhaps he might have said something along the lines of "Forget about the money, and if you really want to come with me, come with me now! We'll think of a way to let your brother know you're relatively safe, and haven't been killed or kidnapped while we're on the road!", or something.

And then, hope his own family would understand why he chose to take Radovid with him, and for them hopefully to not be upset that he's just managed to make their whole situation even more complicated than it already was.

[Poor Geralt though…

Geralt: Let me get this straight… Of all the people on the Continent you could have romantically fallen for, you somehow managed to pick the Crown Prince of Redania? And now, the prince - who comes from a bad home that has been mistreating him - has been following you outside his castle, and you're asking if we can adopt and keep him?

Jaskier: *Smiles sheepishly and attempts to look adorable.* Yes?

Geralt: *Mumbling to himself.* Why does Destiny fucking hate me so much? How many princes and princesses am I supposed to be looking after? I'm a Witcher, for fuck's sake! I'm supposed to be killing monsters! Not opening a royal rescue shelter…

Radovid: *Concerned.* Ah, is your Witcher okay?

Jaskier: Just give him a moment to have a mental breakdown, and he'll be fine!]

But Jaskier doesn't know how bad things are for Radovid back at Tretogor.

Actually, even Radovid himself doesn't fully know!

As far as Radovid is concerned, Dijkstra briefly perceived him as a threat - or at least a nuisance - with regards to the complete and absolute influence he has on King Vizimir, and threatened to have him killed if he gets in their way.

So, by leaving, he'd technically be doing him a favor! No more "baby prince brother" royalsitting for Dijkstra and Philippa! They can go back to the way they've always preferred doing things, without having Radovid to deal with!

But Radovid doesn't know his brother has decided to let Philippa take the fall for Thanedd, and that the best solution the sorceress came up with, to deal with the issue, is "Yup! Imma get rid of Vizimir and put that spare on the throne!"

On a scale of 0 to "the spymasters are so confident they can get away with regicide that they feel totally comfortable making the guy they gleefully confessed Queen Hedwig's murder to King", just how fucking screwed are you?

I don't think Radovid had fully realised he'd reached that very last stage yet.

But yeah, Jaskier answering "maybe" made much more sense, to me, than him going "yes please, come with me, where I'll almost certainly manage to get you and/or myself killed in a desperate attempt to keep my family safe!"

And I love how long he hesitates before giving that answer, and the way his thoughts really appear to be racing, even after he says "maybe", because it is an incredibly complex and multi-factorial situation for him to deal with.

Whereas Radovid has essentially two choices:

Return to a loveless, toxic, dangerous place where he's totally disconnected from himself, and isolated from healthy human interactions.

Be out there in the world, risking his life for something - someone - that's worth taking those risks for, thus acting in accordance with who he is, and what matters to him the most.

So, Radovid basically saying "I'm all in! Let's go!", while Jaskier is saying "maybe", to me, might have more to do with how well they are both ready to handle and accept the potential consequences of Radovid choosing to go with Jaskier at that moment; than it has to do with how much they both desire to have the chance to potentially be together, or even Jaskier struggling with forgiving him.

Of course, there's also Jaskier's own personal fears (of abandonment, of falling back into unhealthy codependent patterns, etc.) that may play a role in him hesitating to treat his feelings for Radovid as a full-fledged partnership right away, and being comfortable with the idea of trusting Radovid enough to rely on him for support, too (trust and forgiveness are not quite the same thing).

That "maybe" is filled with so much potential delicious meanings, I'm telling you!

And, given that being told "maybe" didn't deter Radovid from wanting to go to Jaskier, I've a feeling that Radovid knew that Jaskier's "maybe" was also filled with a lot of hope and yearning, and as close to a "yes" as Jaskier could afford to offer him.

After all, he'd already told Radovid that his plans [of breaking things off between them] had changed.

When Radovid said "I don't get it", Jaskier could have answered him with: "it's the right thing to do", or "I may no longer want to see you, that doesn't mean I wish you to get hurt, Radovid", or "I owe you for having ditched - and now lost - your guards when you came to see me. This is me doing what I can do to pay back the favor."

But Jaskier said "plans change", with some of the most cautiously hopeful and vulnerable puppy dog eyes I've ever seen him throw at anyone.

To me, there was a sense of forgiveness and a bit of an apology, even, in Jaskier's expression at that moment…

Because the fact remains that Jaskier didn't offer Radovid his help, the night before, when he told him he was scared; resulting in Jaskier having allowed Radovid to back himself into that corner where people might say and do stupid things.

It would be a bit unfair for Jaskier to be upset with Radovid for not having trusted him with everything he knew when he came to see him and Ciri, when Jaskier himself was so scared to trust Radovid that he didn't call him out for having avoided to directly answer his question, and instead chose to test what he'd do with the information that the forcefield only lasted 'til dawn.

He's accusing Radovid of not fully trusting him and having kept his full intentions from him, when Jaskier himself literally set up a trap for him, because he was too scared to trust him…

And Radovid had the honesty of saying "I'm scared, Jaskier", at the very least. Whereas Jaskier kept his own fears to himself, and chose to play games and test him.

Granted, Radovid could have pretended to be scared to get Jaskier to lower his defenses, and manipulate him. I'm not saying that Jaskier didn't have very valid reasons for choosing to test him, rather than opting for a direct confrontation.

Trust eventually does become essential in a relationship, but it would be unrealistic to expect it to "magically be there" until both sides have experienced how the other responds in a variety of situations - including their ability to make each other still feel safe while they handle conflicts and mistakes.

So, I'm not pointing out Jaskier's own contribution to this whole mess while trying to determine who is to blame, who was wrong, or who hurt the other the most.

Just hoping that, maybe, Jaskier is allowing himself to recognize that they are both very flawed, complex and human individuals that never meant to hurt each other at that moment.

That part of the reasons why he sits down and looks at Radovid with such a sad, defeated expression, is that he's realizing that they were simply dealing and coping with their own respective fears and doubts as best they could back at the cabin, and got both a good, strong bite in the arse as a result!

When Radovid ran away from the cabin earlier, Jaskier made a little move as if instinctively wanting to run after him.

I think that, maybe, in all of the ways Jaskier might have expected their confrontation to go when "catching Radovid in the act" that morning, he might have imagined facing more outrage from Radovid, more fight…

He might have expected for him to start blaming him in return, etc.

Because, had Radovid indeed been a "knife" and wearing a mask with Jaskier, he might have played "meek" and attempted to "reason with" Jaskier in the beginning in a desperate last ditch attempt to hold onto his mask, sure!

But, when he'd realised it didn't work - and Jaskier would not be so easily fooled - the mask would eventually have had to come off!

Radovid could easily have pretended that he had only wanted to test if Jaskier was being sincere with him.

He could have claimed that he'd realised, the night before, that Jaskier had only let him know about when the forcefield would come down, because he'd never truly cared about him, nor trusted him!

And low and behold! He was right!

Radovid could have accused Jaskier of having been dishonest and manipulative with him, of only having ever pretended to care for him, so he could use him because of his wealth and position at court.

He could have mocked Jaskier for having claimed that "he had no desire" to be playing games with him through his song, only to then go on scheming against him, and setting up traps for him at the first opportunity he got!

A skilled "knife", caught in a lie, will not admit to any wrongdoing, and will make it sound like you're the villain, they're the victim, and the problem lies with you, not them.

But Radovid's response was being truthful in his answers, internalize Jaskier's blame, look like he'd just been kicked, utter a pitiful "I'm so sorry," and run away!

Unless you are someone that enjoy dominating other people and bringing them down (something I do not believe Jaskier does), there's no sense of triumph, or even validation to be derived from Radovid's response!

There's no sense of relief from "having escaped being fooled by such a manipulative and dangerous individual" to be found!

Radovid just took all the blame on himself, brokenly apologized for having managed to hurt and disappoint Jaskier, and ran away thinking he'd forever lost him.

Had Jaskier's priority not been to ensure Ciri's safety, I think he might have followed his impulse and gone after Radovid to attempt to get to the bottom of what was actually happening.

And, even should he have suspected that Radovid's behavior was yet another manipulation attempt - that Radovid would be patient enough to hold onto his mask a while longer while faking taking responsibility for his mistakes and hurting Jaskier…

There's absolutely no way Radovid could have predicted that Jaskier was going to come investigate the room he'd huddled himself into a dark corner to cry.

So, I like to think that Jaskier did regret his harsh words, the way he'd jumped to conclusions back at the cabin, and how he'd cut short Radovid's attempt to explain, as soon as he'd mentioned that he'd be out from under Dijkstra's thumb.

I like to think that Jaskier was sorry for the way he'd hurt Radovid, too, and that he realised that he'd let his own fears and issues get the best of him.

Now, it's up to them to decide if they'll allow their respective fears and issues to win; or instead let that deep, beautiful and delicate connection that they've been experiencing together come out on top.

So, since "the plan" was for Radovid to have seen the last of Jaskier…

I tend to interpret Jaskier saying "plans change" as a way of telling Radovid "I don't want this to be the last you see of me. If you'll still have me, when this is over, I'd like to come back to you."

With Radovid's immediate response being "Come with me, then."

Because Radovid does very much still want Jaskier.

Except Jaskier has a family he needs to go help first, before he can be free to go back to Radovid and continue to explore and deepen that relationship.

And OMFG, yes! Found families are a theme that I absolutely adore in virtually any form of media (perhaps because I had to leave my own family of origin behind to go find "my own tribe")…

By the way, do you have that season 3 review link nearby? I'm not sure if I had the chance to read it yet, or if it somehow managed to pass me by… But I'd be interested to have a first or second read at it!

Otherwise, I pretty much found myself just nodding along while reading your comments.

I definitely think that, the first time Radovid meets Jaskier, he's deeply intrigued by him and how he personally connects with his songs, but still a bit in a "playing games" mindframe, because that's just the way his world is, and has always been, and how people communicate.

And now, I'm amazed, because you've just made me realise that, when Jaskier came to see Radovid wanting to share intel with him, it could very much have made it look like he only cared about Radovid's position, wealth, and resources; rather than about Radovid himself!

In many ways, Jaskier is 100% aware that the Crown Prince of Redania "fancies him", and I think that, under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be above taking advantage of that attraction to help protect his family.

To be clear, I don't think Jaskier would ever look to manipulate the emotions of anyone that would be having sincere, non-entitled, and reciprocal feelings for him.

But a royal that would be looking to own, use, or control him? I think he'd be feeling perfectly justified using his own charms to get what he wants from them.

He tells Vespula "you can't play a player", therefore very much perceiving himself as "a player", in a sense.

And, given that nobles often have an inflated ego and sense of self-importance, "playing them" is typically not that hard to do.

But Radovid does not.

He is far from immune to Jaskier's charms, but he does not perceive him as a some type of potential "trophy lover" or conquest. He's genuinely curious about him, and wishes to better get to know and understand him.

In such a context, trust should normally go both ways.

Jaskier tells Philippa and Radovid that, if they get rid of Rience, they will have earned Ciri's, Geralt's, and his own trust (and he talks about winning his own trust while pointedly looking at Radovid)…

But what is Jaskier willing to do to earn Radovid's trust in return?

You've just made me realise that, while I often tend to remind myself that there is lot that the audience knows about Radovid that Jaskier himself doesn't…

Well, there is also a lot that the audience knows about Jaskier that Radovid himself simply doesn't, too.

Sure, Jaskier's initial response towards learning that Radovid was the Crown Prince of Redania was rather flattering and amusing, especially since it brought a certain balance to the way Radovid himself was slightly starstruck by Jaskier.

Rockstar meets royalty, basically… and forgets to let his hand go, much to royalty's delight!

But, once that initial moment has passed, does Jaskier still only sees Radovid as a prince - with all the privileges tied to his position that he could use for his own gain - or a person that's worth knowing, too?

We all assume that Jaskier's motives are honorable, because we know him, but Radovid only knows about Jaskier's songs and what little he's been able to pick up from him during two rather short encounters.

In that context, Jaskier showing up all "So, I hear you've got money! Maybe you could use it to get the two detectives to talk, and help Geralt and I find out who Rience is working for?" could actually be… borderline insulting?

Technically, it wouldn't, if Radovid was into such things as power and influence, wanted to find Ciri for himself rather than to please his brother, and Jaskier's suggestion was helping him get closer to something he really wished to get closer to besides the man standing right before him.

Again, Jaskier doesn't know that; so, there's a bit of an ongoing comedy of errors happening between these two this season.

And he doesn't know that Radovid doesn't actually have that much money "ready to be handed out" like that, either.

That Radovid would have to first sell some of his own belongings to pay for that intel.

Jaskier's basically prancing right into the palace while making a bunch of (albeit flirtatious) assumptions about Radovid - most of them kinda wrong / only half right - and it's really no wonder Radovid himself would be unwilling to "collaborate" with him so easily, admit to what he knows, and instead choose to initially continue to play dumb/drunk!

To be fair, most nobles would likely love to be reminded of their wealth, status and power, and go "Oh yeah, I've got money and I'm so important, uwu!"

They would likely welcome any opportunity to put it on display and use it to further seduce Jaskier! Normally, a prince should have favorably responded to Jaskier's innuendos...

Whereas Radovid's pretty much "Yes, yes, very interesting… Now, enough about me, let's talk about you! Here's your lute, may I humbly ask you to sing about what you prefer singing the most? Please?Maybe your white-haired Witcher? I really want to get to know you…"

And look, the fact that Jaskier got his crush to agree to help him because he was moved by his singing, cares about him, and has made it his personal mission in life to learn to better understand what makes him so special, must be so much more satisfying to Jaskier’s than it being because Radovid likes to display his wealth and feel influential and important!

I mean, look at that face...

He's just so pleased with the unexpected way things turned out...

[savage-rhi]

"Quick, hide in the closet!" 😆 For Roche/Ciri and Geralt please 🙏

"This is stupid," Ciri muttered to herself, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, and exhaling. A faint huff left Roche's lips, making Ciri grimace as she turned to face him with a frown. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Roche said slyly, his gaze drifting away from her to take in the dimly lit room. The faint glow of the lit beeswax candles did little to make the ambience welcoming. "Given how overprotective Geralt is, I'm surprised he'd drag you somewhere like this."

"It beats hiding out in the brothels," Ciri remarked matter of factly, crossing her arms. "Y'know, if he catches you here, its both our necks on the line."

"Which is precisely why I waited until I knew he was out of town to come see you."

"Vern-"

"Don't."

He stepped forward, taking her right hand in his. His fingers gave a gentle squeeze as his gaze traveled up to meet hers, a warm smile curving his lips. For all their quips and banter, Roche had to admit, Ciri was beautiful when she was worried on his behalf. Even if the poor lighting didn’t do her any favors. Not that he’d ever say that aloud.

"If you keep fretting like this, it'll be the death of me."

Ciri froze as he bent forward and kissed the top of her hand. She felt a warmth rise to her face and gently removed her hand from his grasp and pulled away. "You're a fool."

"So I've been told," He said with a grin.

Ciri quietly regarded him, unable to leave his eyes alone. They held an exhaustion that was unfamiliar, almost as if she wasn't looking at Roche but a weary stranger.

"I'm beginning to sense you're not here for our usual pleasantries."

"Am I that obvious?"

Ciri nodded, smiling faintly. "I'm afraid you're losing your touch."

"I'll make a note of that," Before she could protest, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a long overdue embrace. The relieved sigh that left her body made Roche's heart ache as he buried his nose into her hair.

"You said I'm losing my touch," he murmured, "but at least I'm not losing yours."

"You'll never lose me," Ciri whispered. She nudged upward, feeling Roche's chin leave her head and met his gaze. "Now c'mon, out with it. What's going on?"

"Well I-"

"Quick, hide in the closet!"

"What?!"

Before he could react, Ciri yanked him forward. In a blur, Roche found himself stumbling, barely catching his breath before he was shoved into a tiny dark space. Instead of Ciri’s beautiful face, he was met with the sight of green mold creeping along a wooden door that had seen better days that made his body shudder involuntarily. Just as he opened his mouth to protest through the cracks, he heard the creak of the main door opening, followed by the heavy steps of Geralt.

Roche’s eyes widened. Hands clamping over his mouth, he went as still as a man facing down a viper.

Geralt let out a slow breath, rubbing grime and blood from his face. He barely acknowledged Ciri as he strode toward the table, grabbing the complimentary pitcher of water the innkeeper had left behind.

"Geralt," Ciri cleared her throat, furrowing her brows while she watched him drink straight from the pitcher, ignoring the cups entirely. She flinched when making eye contact with him. It was obvious he didn't want to talk about whatever happened, but that didn't stop her from trying.

"I take it the meeting didn't go as planned?"

"You have no idea," Geralt muttered, swallowing down a mix of water, blood, and spit. "We're safe for the night, but come sunrise we should leave. Be on the look out, have a weapon ready just in case."

Ciri stepped forward as he moved toward the entrance, confusion in her gaze. "Where are you going?"

"Intel," Geralt said curtly. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at her. His eyes darted to the closet for a fraction of a second before returning to her face. "And I'm giving you fifteen minutes to wrap up whatever is going on between you and your companion."

"There's no one-"

"Please," Geralt held up a hand, unimpressed. "Take me for a fool as often as you'd like, but I'm not an idiot."

His smirk was quick and fleeting, but Ciri caught it before he shut the door behind him, and even though she sighed in relief, she knew this wasn't over; already envisioning the verbal onslaught that was to come. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thud, followed by a yelp as Roche unceremoniously tumbled out of the closet.

"I slipped," Roche said in his defense, holding out his arms in surrender.

"You sure did," Ciri placed her hands on her hips, raising a brow as she peered down at him, unimpressed. "He's going to kill you one day. Y'know that?"

Roche grinned up at her, admiring the view as he took in the way her lips were desperately trying not to smile back.

"But today," he said confidently. "is not that day."

If you like my work and feel generous, feel free to donate to my ko-fi account or my cash app account!

Cash App: $JayRex1463

[pyrrhicraven]

Which person in each of your ships is the most clingy / over-protective?

Super Mario Bros: 1000% Luigi no matter who his partner(s) is/are lol

TMNT: Saki is overprotective but I wouldn't say clingy 🤔

Yu Yu Hakusho: Hiei is overprotective and his version of clingy even if he won't admit it at all lol

Danny Phantom: Vlad, the crazy guy would 100% be very clingy at first and will always be overprotective.

Invader Zim: Honestly that one goes both ways They are both clingy and Overprotective lol

Star Wars: Dooku would be the overprotective one where he can depending on which version I'm writing. Cad and Padme would be protective of each other but I wouldn't say overly so.

Batman: I'd normally say Bruce is the overprotective one but it amuses me that his rouges would be the clingy overly protective ones because they all want to be the ones to best him and don't like it when someone else tries to beat him that isn't a rouge 😂

Gravity Falls: Bill. It will always be Bill no matter who he's paired with since he's such a little psycho🤣

Hellsing: I mean Alucard is kind of obvious but with the way I write him he would be a clingy bastard but try to make it seem like he wasn't and he'd be overprotective but that's a two-way street because I couldn't see anyone I've paired him with not being over-protective of him too.

Miraculous Ladybug: ohhh that's way too easy Gabriel or Felix as both have very dominant personalities and even though Marinette is Ladybug that wouldn't stop them from being overprotective of her.

Kakuriyo Bed & Breakfast for Spirits: Ginji and Ōdanna for sure lol Aoi is very cute after all...🤣

hotel Transylvania: Drac of course but I could see Jonny being just as protective.

The Flash: Honestly a lot of that going around for any pairing I write for this one. Barry can be clingy and overprotective. Len and Mick are extremely overprotective of their speedster 😈

Megamind: Another example of overprotective on both sides. I can't really see it any other way. But maybe Mega is slightly more overprotective, he's also very much the one that is clingy too!

The Witcher: Geralt enough said 🤣

Knights and Magic: It wouldn't be Ernesti 😅

Metal Family: Glam of course but honestly everyone to some degree.

Scooby Doo: Uhhh I do have a ship written for this one but it's more a horror version than anything 😵‍💫But Velma would be the 'overprotective' one...

Guardians of Childhood: Pitch would be overprotective considering how much he's lost in his admittedly long life. But Jack would be just as overprotective once Pitch let him in.

Hazbin Hotel: That's a hard one? I mean on one hand, you have Lucifer, the guy everyone just seems to want to spit on but is mega powerful-then we have Alastor, an unrepentant serial killer and someone who won't show his cards. (Though one wonders who the smile is really for)

OK K.O.: Boxman 100% lol I mean That's not to say that Venomous wouldn't have his moments of overprotectiveness but Boxman would be more so.

Highlander: Duncan because that's so in character for him tbh.

[lucigoo]

Weekly Roundup: 12th May - 9th June

As im sure yo can see, I've been a bot (a lot) lacking in my Weekly ROundup. between a broken and dislocatted wrist (well done me) and just life in general, well I havnt done it. So here we are, I'm back <3 So, its been a few weeks. What I'm gonna do is the normal 6 recs and then add all the fics I've written so we are all up to date. Hope you all had a good FEW weeks lol. As always, recs first:

A Song of War (will set me free) - Sylcian_SPH_Legacy - Wiedźmin | The Witcher - (Geralt/Jaskier, this is one of my fav Warlord Geralt fics) Summary: "Jaskier came home one day and asked a question who changed the path of the ones he called family. Oxenfurt went to war to protect life and save hope four months later."

And Howl Your Pain Unto The Moon - Jeanblack2056 - Wiedźmin | The Witcher - (Geralt/Jaskier, I adore post-Caingorn and Jaskier at Kaer Morhen fics) Summary: After The MountainTM, Jaskier gets himself a nice new curse to wear, turning into a werewolf. He's not aware of much, but there is still something telling him to go north, go to the mountains. When Lambert meets the werewolf on his way home, and recognizes him, the witchers are up for an interesting winter.

Jaskier the disney princess and the harpies - Cao_the_dreamer - The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, this whole series is brilliant imo.) Summary: Jaskier is adopted by a fmaily of harpies, shennanigans ensue Daisy Chain - kayte_overmoon - Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Geralt/Jaskier, Pregnant omega Jaskier and overprotective Geralt, chefs kiss) Summary:

Geralt meets a young, pregnant omega who makes him question everything he's ever known.

It would be a lot easier to leave him behind if Geralt wasn't already in love with him.

Oak & Ash - Morg47 - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own] - (The hobbit, Bilbo/Thorin, I still adore this series and this one is so good) Summary -

Long before the elves, Orome rode across the lands and purged evil from the forests he loved. Once the other races began to wake, he asked Eru for help protecting Middle Earth. Not long after, Orome found the hobbits. Deciding they were a gift from Eru himself, Orome took them in and began to teach them not only to hunt but also how to care for the lands around them. Any hobbit worth their salt knew how to drive out evil and vanquish it, just as their Valar taught them.

So really, how was Bilbo supposed to refuse a quest that would not only allow him to travel the lands that all hobbits loved but also vanquish one of the greatest evils still on Middle Earth? He was supposed to say no to cleansing forests and vanquishing darkness and seeing new trees? Not going was never an option.

The more evil they met along the way, the better.

Unpleasant Arrangements - Chrononautical - The Hobbit - (Bilbo/Thorin, Jelous Bilbo is just beautiful) Summary: The King Under the Mountain requires a consort. Bilbo is happy to help him find one. So. Very. Happy.

And now, as always, my fics, we have 5 fics and here they are: I Planted My Trees, And Watched Them Grow with You (Bilbo/Thorin, I;ve finally written the peultimate fic for the bagignshield-tober prompts by @smolestboop, I'm getting there lol) Summary: Bilbo is 141 years old, much to old for a hobbit and he feels it.

Hobbits were giving a gift by Yavanna. They know 24 hours before their time is up.

This is Bilbo's time to say goodbye to all those he loves and all who love him. Hitting Him in the Heart (Bilbo/Thorin, last weeks @flashfictionfridayofficial, plese mind the tags) Summary: Thorin hasn't recovered from the Dragon sickness, he is just able to trick everyone but his hobbit.

Bilbo takes matters in his own hands to save his dwarves and Erebor. He will save them the only way he can.

Touching me, touching you (There is nothing magic can’t do) (Sirius/Remus, for the @marauderswithpalestineproject prompt, its smutty) Summary: Remus is away with work, Sirius has had a stressful day.

Thank fully Remus as a suprise and a new way to be intimate with Sirus, even if they are on opposite sides of the world. It's not goodbye, it's not forever, it's just not right now (Sirius/Remus, for the @wolfstarbingo2024, please mind the tags) Summary: Sirius is a disaster of a man and he needs help. He refuses to get it though and Remus is bearing the brunt of that until he decides that he can't any longer. Everything has a golden hue, everything but you (Bilbo'Thorin, for this weeks FFF< again, please mind the tags) Summary: Thorin is gold sick, he is possessive and angry. Especially when he finds out his Golden One isn't beside him in the treasury where he belongs. And there we have it, I'm now all caught up, have a good week all <3

[winters-mistress]

Know your limits, know your worth

Ciri's running with the dogs. It's unusual that they get this much exercise when they are not hunting with the witchers, but Vesemir wanted the newest pup to run the killer and through the woods before supper. And much to their surprise, the little one didn't bitch or whine and moan. She simply agreed and went back to her lunch, slurping up her apple juice and pitting another small handful of greens into her mouth.

Geralt had been suspicious of the quick submission, she had been miserable and grouchy the first time they had run the killer together. And each time, she grumbled and groaned like Lambert with a hangover, and he was uneasy about this new acquiescence until she got up with Eskel and the two of them went outside.

Geralt follows, because of course he does, Lambert calls him a nosy, overprotective prick when it comes to the young Queen of Cintra. But he's intrigued by the change in the kid, and Eskel's apparent knowledge of it. And while he knew the girl liked the hunting dogs they kept in the Keep, he didn't think they would be used as bribes.

But bribes they were, he thinks with a grin, looking at the girl as she runs with the dogs. It's not all of them, the breeding bitches and a couple siring studs and the youngest pups are still in their kennels in the Keep. They yap amd bark with her, depending on their ages, the lot of them looking like an unusual multi species pack, running in the wind and sucking gown air greedily as they make their way through the woodlands.

Eskel was spotting behind her, making sure the dogs were still in line, and none were left behind. Presumably, he's there to make sure Ciri doesn't fall or hurt herself, but he keeps back a few yards so she feels free and wild as they run with precision, steps measured as they acclimatise to the rocks and mud on the ground.

Geralt grins at the sight of his girl laughing into the wind, leading the pack of hunters as she runs. It reminds him of when they first met, finding her wet and wild and rugged with leaves in her hair and mud on her torn cape. But they are in much happier circumstances in this moment. Cirilla is settled and fed and happy, and he has found a peace in which he had never known, being around this kid.

For all he resents Volentretenmerth and his prophecies and all they cost him, he knows the man was right in his knowledge that being with her soothed the itch he could not scratch, the Queen of Cintra being the thing that kept him up at night, their separation making him ache. And being around her now, teaching and protecting her, it soothes something he didn't even know was so drawn tight.

She gives him purpose, she gives Vesemir a reason to slip into the old master's role once again, one he had sorely missed since all his pups left the Keep. She has given Lambert healing from his bastard of a father, and gave Eskel reason to come to peace with what happened with Diedre.

Ciri's much like him, he realises. Light hair and glowing eyes and fresh out of tragedy. But now, they can all heal together as the winter continues to settle in the Keep, even if they do have the help of a few dozen paws and floppy ears along the way.

[tiny-tini-imagines]

OMG I just found your blog and damn I'm in love with your writing.

Would it be ok if I asked for some Witcher headcananons?

I would love to have some for Gerald as a father, (but just imagine Ciri didn't exist). So Gerlad found this girl, whose family was killed by a monster, and he took her with him and slowly became her father. So some head cannons about Gerald being a Dad.

I'd appreciate it, sending lots of love your way.

Re.: Hey, THANK YOU SO MUCH! And also thanks for the request, I loved writing it, and hope it's what you wanted.

Headcanons - The Witcher

summary: Geralt as a Father

(added: character art, what they would say to them, or about them)

Father-Daughter Bond: Geralt sees her as his own daughter, and their bond is unbreakable. He may not be the most expressive person, but his love for her is evident in the little things he does. He doesn't hesitate to show his affection through his actions, even if he doesn't always say it out loud.

A Loving Home: The other witchers, initially skeptical of her presence, have all become like uncles to her. Vesemir, in particular, has a soft spot for her and is more like a granddad figure, regaling her with stories of the past.

Protective Dad: Geralt is extremely protective of her. He watches over her like a hawk, especially when they're in unfamiliar places. If he senses any danger, he's quick to position himself between her and the threat, a silent promise that he'll keep her safe.

"I know I can be overprotective, but it's only because I care about you so much. I just want to make sure you're safe and happy." "No matter how old you get, you'll always be my little girl. And I'll always be here to look out for you, no matter what."

Teaching Moments: He takes every opportunity to teach her valuable skills. Whether it's showing her how to properly wield a sword, start a fire, or track a monster, he is patient and thorough in his instruction. He knows that these skills could be essential for her survival one day.

"I've taught her everything I know, but she's taught me even more about what it means to be a father."

Fishing Lessons: One of their favorite pastimes is fishing. Geralt patiently teaches his daughter to fish using her bare hands.

Magic Lessons: Geralt, recognizing her potential, has enlisted the help of Triss or Yennefer to teach his daughter magic.

Nightmares and Comfort: Geralt always knows when she has nightmares, even if she tries to hide them. When she wakes up in a cold sweat, he's there to comfort her. He holds her close, whispering soothing words and stroking her hair until she can fall back asleep, feeling safe in his arms. However, sometimes, words are not necessary. Geralt will sit by her side in silence, offering his comforting presence. His strong, reassuring presence alone is enough to ease her fears.

"Don't ever forget that you can come to me with anything, whether it's a nightmare or a problem you're facing. I'll always be here for you."

Cuddles and Reassurance: Whenever she can't sleep, Geralt lets her rest on his chest. His slow, steady witcher heartbeat acts as a lullaby, calming her nerves. He often murmurs stories of their adventures, reminding her that she's never alone as long as he's around.

Unspoken Understanding: Geralt and his daughter have an unspoken understanding of each other's emotions and needs. They can communicate without words, knowing when the other needs space, comfort, or a listening ear.

Protective Stares: When they're out in public, Geralt's protective instincts kick in. He'll give anyone who looks at her a stern, warning glare, ensuring they keep their distance. She often teases him about being an overprotective dad, but secretly, she appreciates it. However he'll always observe anyone who gets too close to his daughter, especially young men who may be interested in her romantically. He watches them like a hawk and isn't afraid to make his presence known if he feels they're crossing boundaries.

Special Nicknames: Geralt has a soft spot for calling her by special nicknames, like "Little Wolf". These names are his way of showing affection without having to say the words out.

Inside Jokes: They share a ton of inside jokes from their adventures together. These jokes often involve specific monsters, places they've been, or humorous situations they've found themselves in. They can exchange a knowing glance and burst into laughter while others look on in confusion.

For instance, they might exchange a knowing glance and say: "Well, it's not another cursed Djinn, at least."

Grooming Ritual: Just as wolves in a pack groom each other as a sign of care and affection, Geralt has a ritual of carefully checking her equipment, for example ensuring her sword is sharp...

Hugs with Heart: Geralt's hugs may not be frequent, but when he does embrace her, it's full of warmth and love. He squeezes her gently, and it's a silent reassurance that no matter what challenges they face, they'll always have each other. OR It's a strong, one-armed embrace that speaks volumes about his affection and protection.

Nurturing Nature: Geralt may not be the most nurturing person, but when she is feeling unwell or has had a rough day, he surprises her with simple comforts like a warm meal, a cozy blanket, or a soothing cup of tea. He does these things quietly, without drawing attention to them.

Words of Encouragement: Whenever his daughter faces a challenge, Geralt is there to offer words of encouragement. He believes in her abilities and constantly reminds her that she's more than capable of handling whatever comes her way.

"Remember, it's okay to ask for help when you need it. You don't have to carry everything on your own shoulders."

The "Real Daughter" Comment: If anyone were foolish enough to suggest that she isn't his real daughter, Geralt's response would be swift and stern. He'd shut down such remarks with a single cold look and a firm, "She's my daughter, and that's all that matters."

"I've raised her, protected her, and loved her since she was just a frightened child. That makes her my daughter, no matter what anyone says."

The Origin Question: If she were to ask about her origins, Geralt would sit her down and explain the circumstances of how he found her. He'd emphasize that it doesn't matter where she came from; what matters is the family they've become and the love they share.

"You're my family, Little Wolf. Blood doesn't make family; the bonds we forge do." "No matter where life takes you, always know that you have a home here at Kaer Morhen, and you have a family who loves you."

Proud Dad Moments: Geralt is incredibly proud of her talents, whether it's her proficiency in combat or her mastery of magic. He doesn't shy away from expressing his pride when she accomplishes something remarkable, even if it's just a simple, approving nod.

Shared Secrets: They have a few secrets that only they know, like a hidden spot in Kaer Morhen where they go to stargaze.

[havenoffandoms]

Geralt be like "blablabla all I need is peace and quiet, and YOU, Jaskier, are the very reason I don't get to feel peace and quiet" and then goes overprotective boyfriend mode the second Jaskier's childhood bully enters the stage.

“If you know my name it is only because you know his songs” from Geralt directed at Jaskier’s CHILDHOOD BULLY I’m never recovering from this

[thedemonofcat]

Growing up, Jaskier always found his parents to be a bit overprotective—especially when it came to his birthday. You’d think that being born into nobility would guarantee grand celebrations and lavish parties. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Every year on his birthday, Jaskier wasn’t allowed to leave his bedroom.

Eventually, even the most sheltered soul reaches a breaking point. So, Jaskier ran away. Things turned out well enough: he became a bard, began traveling, and formed an unlikely friendship with Geralt.

This winter, due to an early snowfall, Geralt has decided to spend the season in Oxenfurt with Jaskier. For the first time in his life, Jaskier will celebrate his birthday with someone he truly cares about.

But the day takes a dark turn.

On the morning of Jaskier’s birthday, an evil sorcerer appears, demanding Jaskier marry him. Claiming Jaskier had long been promised to him. When Jaskier refuses, the sorcerer unleashes his wrath, freezing the entire population of Oxenfurt into ice statues. He declares that he’ll only reverse the curse if Jaskier agrees to become his spouse.

[ladylaviniya]

OKAY WAIT ✋✨ I’M GOING TO SCREAM BECAUSPhoenix seeing Kaer Morhen for the first time??? 😭🖤 the way she just stopped and breathed it in like it was sacred ground??? THE EMOTION. THE MAGIC. THE WEIGHT OF IT ALL. And her touching the Griffin’s bones like it was a holy relic??? UGH I HAD GOOSEBUMPS.

And Geralt??? Geralt being all lowkey smug like, "you should trust me, Princess" 😌✨ SIR, WHY ARE YOU THIS CHARMING??? I love their snarky little friendship so much I would die for it.

Also. HER GETTING ALL SHY WITH THE WITCHERS WATCHING HER 👀 and then CIRI. MY GIRL CIRILLA. showing up like the radiant Lion Cub Queen she is. And the way Phoenix just knew to treat her not like a princess but like an equal warrior??? The ✨women respecting women✨ energy is THRIVING.

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE BATH SCENE??? Phoenix and Ciri having a real heart-to-heart, trauma bonding, sharing the pain but also the HOPE??? 😭🔥 The way Phoenix said her magic isn’t chaos, but a gift?? ICONIC BEHAVIOR ONLY.

AND GERALT??? SIR??? standing there all stoic while internally being an overprotective dad like, "are you bullying my guest???" 🫡💀 but also lowkey BLUSHING at Phoenix being confident and naked??? He’s down SO BAD and I LOVE that for him.

AND THE MEDALLION TREE??? 🥺 the way she touched the medallions like she was paying respect at a graveyard??? I was SOBBING quietly. Her dream of becoming a Witcher, still alive inside her. even after everything??? GIRL I’M SO PROUD.

AND LET’S NOT FORGET. her walking into the dinner hall in her new gown and the Witchers IMMEDIATELY being like 🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️ LMAOOO Lambert and his mouth, truly chaos incarnate, but the way Ciri just casually drags him like "ignore him, he’s pathetic"??? I DIED.

Phoenix: Story of the Lost Fire Princess

Hi everyone! I’m back! Here’s Chapter 4 of Phoenix! Enjoy ❤️‍🔥

**I do not give anyone permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Drinking , Violence , Nudity , Mentions of Loss , THE FEELS 🥺💔 , Angst ,

Pairing : Geralt Of Rivia x Phoenix (Curvy African American Woman) (With Guest Stars: Coën, Lambert, Vesemir)

Description: Days after their ambush, Phoenix & Geralt make their way back to Kaer Morhen where she meets those who helped change his life.

Word Count: 3.9K

Chapter 4: Kaer Morhen

The two of them rode in a comfortable silence. Phoenix was to busy taking in her surroundings as, she had never been on this side of the continent before. Even though everything was pretty much the same, having a new companion, made everything seem all the more — different.

‘Hmm, you’re rather chatty today.’ He said softly, with a slight bit of playfulness. He glanced back over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of her looking down at the shimmering snow.

‘Perhaps I do not have much to say today Witcher. You should pay attention to the path before you get us lost.’ She argued back, her own little playful taunt.

Geralt smirked at her remark, ‘Lost? I know this Terrain better than I know the bestiary of this Continent,’ he looked back, ‘You should put some trust in me Princess.’ And he looked ahead once again.

Phoenix rolled her eyes as a smirk curled on her lips, ‘Hmph.’ She breathe out. Her caramel eyes once again found that sparkling white snow again. This time in the trees. And the way the sun shone down on it, — it was breathtaking. It was like looking at diamonds! It was so white and — untouched! As if no one had ever traveled this far before.

It was unfortunate that she never got to take in this bustling and beautiful world around her. She was always on a time limit. Always on her toes. Minding the twins and running from those who wish to seek her harm. Or worse— bring her back to her kingdom, defenseless.

***

Riding from the protection of the trees up above, Geralt and Phoenix had finally come to a stop in a open field that turned into snow covered mountains. And hiding in plain sight, a place she had thought she’d never see in person, was sitting there awaiting their arrival.

Phoenix clutched the reins tightly in her palms as her chest shook with shock and anticipation. She finally opened her mouth, and a small cloud of fog disappeared before her.

‘Phoenix, this is—‘

‘Kaer Morhen.’ She stared up at the fortress as if it were to burst into flames! It was old as time, (or it had seem to be) destroyed by the trials of time and weather. Or maybe—

Geralt looked over at Phoenix. Watching as her emotions shown like a picture book on her beautiful features. ‘Home.’

She looked over at him with her plumped lips pressed together in approval. ‘After you. I am your guest, after all.’

He had given her a simple nod and kicked at Roach’s side, taking off towards the path that lead up to the fortress. And Phoenix had followed suit.

***

After pulling their horses to a stop and dismounting them, the both of them made sure to tie them up, and remove all of their equipment to bring inside with them. Phoenix was enthralled to learn more about this place! Things that the books wouldn’t tell or her father’s Golden Knight, Levy, refused to explain. She looked around, noticing more debris lying about. Large rocks, broken statues, and one thing that caught her eye in particularly. The remains of a.. Griffin?

‘Geralt is that a—‘

Geralt smirked and looked over at her with slight confusion, ‘A Griffin? Yes.’

Phoenix had dropped everything that she held. Her weapons, her travel kit, her knitted blanket— EVERYTHING— and quickly rushed over to the icy bones. She dropped to her knees, fast breaths leaving her lips. She popped the button on her wrist and removed her her glove.

With the warmth of her hand now gone, she shuddered at the brisk feel. She could have used her power to warm up her palm, but she wanted to feel all of this. This whole moment, she wanted to remember how everything felt. So she placed her palm on the skull of the skeleton and she had never felt so enlightened before. Phoenix let out a scuff, with thick tears filling her eyes. All of this was like a dream to her.

Geralt had picked up her valuables and walked over to her, ‘decades ago. A father, seeking the revenge for his mate and offspring. When Griffin’s mate, they—‘

‘Mate for a lifetime.’ She said softly, loud enough for him to hear but so softly. Phoenix looked over her shoulder, up at him with wet eyes. ‘He only wanted justice. Were there any innocent lives slain?’

Geralt pressed his lips together and give her a nod. ‘Mmm.’

‘Then — you did what was right.’ She sniffed and looked back down at the skull before slowly standing to her feet. ‘This is— stellar.’

Geralt chuckled, ‘If you say so. Come, there’s warmth inside.’ And he jerked his head towards the large doors. Phoenix smiled softly and followed the tall broody man towards the doors.

As they walked inside, the hall was bustling with noise and men chattering. Phoenix was too busy taking in the place to truly pay attention to the conversations. All until it got deathly quiet. She knew then, that the attention was on the both of them.

To be frank, it was eerie. Phoenix swallowed her spit and stepped a tad bit closer to Geralt as they all stood to their feet. ‘Don’t you worry. They’re all harmless.’ He smirked, reassuring her.

‘BLOODY HELL!’ One with ginger curly hair exclaimed, walking over to the both of them. ‘Took you long enough shit head!’ And he embraced Geralt in a tight hug. Once she knew the coast was clear, Phoenix stepped to the side, allowing his Witcher brother’s to welcome him back home. All until—

‘Aye, You’ve brought a guest?’ Another had asked, a bald black man with a blind eye and an intriguing smile. The rest of the men had immediately turned their attention to the woman who stood only a mere few feet away from Geralt. ‘This is Princess Phoenix of Jedajél.’

The room grew quiet once again. Until she waved her hand once, ‘Hello, gentlemen. It’s an honor.’ And it was! She wanted to be a Witcher when she was a little girl. Be the first woman that endured the Trial of the Grasses. But her life steered her in a different direction.

‘Haven’t gotten enough of bringin’ princesses around eh?’ The ginger asked. Geralt’s eyes narrowed and his lips frowned up, ‘aye, aye— relax. I’m only fuckin’ around. Aye, Princess? Anyone who is a friend to Geralt, is a friend of ours!’ And the room erupted with a glorious roar.

That alone was enough to make Phoenix smile. She had never truly been welcomed anywhere. Maybe this was where she was intended to be.

The noises of footsteps had captured her attention. They were not synchronized so there were two people. And one sounded lighter than the other. ‘Ahhh, wolf— you’re home.’ All of the men stepped to the side, looking back at a older male with gray shoulder length hair. Standing next to him, was a young girl. Ashen hair— eyes as green as emeralds. This was the girl. The girl that the continent had literally stopped for. Princess Cirilla of Cintra. And she was breathtakingly beautiful.

Ciri had taken long strides over to him and embraced him in what had seem to be a tighter hug than what his brother’s had given him. And Geralt had returned that hug, in the same manner. ‘Welcome back, Geralt.’

He had pulled away from her, his large hands now resting on her arms and a proud smile on his lips. ‘It’s good to be back Ciri,’ then he paused, his head gently falling to the side as his smile had disappeared. Phoenix studied them— their body language. He was no different than a biological father. Even at first glance you’d think she was his. With all that strange beauty. ‘Ciri?’

Ciri’s smile had faltered as well, in worrisome as if she was in trouble. Her eyebrows tugged in together as if she was trying to understand the shift in energy, ‘Yes?’

Phoenix braced herself. Waiting.

‘Have you done something different to your hair?’

Ugh, he was liable to give someone a heart attack with his antics.

Phoenix had rolled her eyes and silently giggled, her head falling forward.

Ciri halfway blinked before giving her father a happy grin, ‘Indeed. It looks like yours almost.’

‘See? I knew it looked familiar. Very nice, Cirilla.’ And he gave her head a gentle, loving pat before he glanced over to see Phoenix taking in all this — joy. Cirilla then followed his glare. ‘Who is this?’ She asked.

Phoenix stood up straight, gently clearing her throat as the two came closer. ‘Ciri, this is Princess Phoenix of Jedajél. Phoenix this is—‘

‘The Legendary Lion Cub of Cintra. I— my Gods!.’ She reached out towards the girl and grasp her smaller hands in hers. They were callused. Rough as if she had been a knight instead of a princess. The same kind of hands Phoenix had. She gave them a gentle and loving squeeze, ‘It’s a pleasure, Cirilla.’

Even with the power Phoenix wielded, she knew that Cirilla could flip this world inside out with out the effort. And with that, she felt an familiar urge around Ciri. One that was similar to the twins. One to protect.

Ciri gave Phoenix a smile, intrigued by the news. ‘I wasn’t aware that there was any Princesses in Jedajél. They said that she was dead.’

Phoenix scuffed and nodded, ‘Of course they did. I was Princess before your time darling. I don’t really like to carry the title anymore though. Way too much authority for me.’ She giggled, placing her hands on her hips as she looked up at Geralt.

Geralt looked over at her with a nod in understanding, but in reality— he was trying to hide that smirk that was cracking at the corners of his lips.

Ciri smiled softly, glancing between the two. She couldn’t tell if there was something going on between Phoenix and Geralt. From how it looked, they appeared to be friends. But, leave it to her to snoop around for clues and theories. ‘How did you two meet?’

‘Well,—‘

‘It’s a story that can be shared once we all meet for dinner. I don’t know about you Phoenix but, our travels have caught up with us. We’re starting to smell like it.’

Phoenix’s eyebrows tugged together and looked down at her shoulder, pinched at her blouse and did a quick sniff. And she was absolutely mortified! ‘Augh! How is it that we still smell like The Gwellech?’ She whispered in slight embarrassment.

‘SINCE WHEN WAS IT THAT YOU CARED ABOUT YOUR STENCH?!’ The ginger called out before he took a sip of his ale.

Geralt’s head snapped over and that devious grin had curled on his lips, ‘Since when did you possess such a big mouth, Lambert? Oh I forgot! You’ve always had it!’ The room erupted with laughter.

Ciri watched Phoenix as the woman did her best to control her laughter. ‘Vesemir always keeps extra gowns for his guests…’ she implied, ‘That’s if you’d like to smell like drowners and week old onions.’ And she gave Phoenix a half smile. Phoenix gasped softly and looked over at Ciri, ‘Oh dear! Do I smell that bad?’ And she lifted her arm this time, she didn’t have to dip her head down to smell. It had hit her in the face like a ton of bricks. ‘Oh-‘ she gagged, ‘OK, I’ll take your word for it.’

***

Knock, Knock— ‘Come in.’ She said softly as she sat in that large wooden tub. It was filled with decent warm water but she was able to bring it to a gentle boil so her body could relax. Ciri pushed open the door gently with towels in her hands, ‘I’ve just come to drop these off. They’re not… what we’re used to but, they’ll do.’ And she sat down on the wooden stool.

‘Thank you Cirilla. But trust me, I’ve been handed worse. These are fine.’ Phoenix chuckled and pressed her lips together before her head fell back against the tub. Her eyes were closed. She finally felt like she could truly, rest!

Well, not exactly.

‘You know it’s hard to relax when someone is burning a hole in your head with their eyes. Speak child.’

Ciri’s eyebrows raised in surprise a little, ‘i suppose I could have given you some privacy.’ But would she? She was too— interested to know about this woman. But it grew quiet again. She only wanted to ask a question… one that would answer all of the ones she had. ‘What happened to you?’

Phoenix’s eyes flashed open and she sat up. She stared at her with soft eyes. She had knew what Ciri had lost as well. Though the circumstances were different, she couldn’t help but feel the same… two princesses, hated because of what they were, loved because the good they’ve done. Their families stripped away from them like a patch on unhealed wound.

‘You know when I was younger than you Cirilla, I dreamed of becoming a Knight. I loved the idea so much that my father made it his business to have his Golden Knight train me like a orphan off of the street.’ She scoffed and shook her head slightly, ‘When I got older— I looked into becoming a Witcher. I read everything, what it would take— the risks. But then my father met my The Kingdom’s mage. She got in close, told me that it was my destiny to be Queen. That I was born for this and that I was the one and true heir to the throne. Hell, she even taught me how to manage and control my own chaos! But there are snakes always lurking in the grass.’ Phoenix lifted her hand out of the water, channeling that warm energy to her palm. And a bright orange ball of flames appeared in her hand.

Ciri slowly stood up from her stool and kneeled down in front of the tub. Her bright green eyes gazed at the burning ball as if it were going to disappear into thin air! ‘You have it too… chaos.’

Phoenix breathe out with a soft smile curling on her lips, ‘I — wouldn’t call it that. Sure it is chaotic… but for me, it’s a gift.’ And the orange ball of flames turned blue.

Ciri smiled softly, at a loss of words. ‘Then?’

‘My father married her when I was around your age. And she fell pregnant 8 months before my 18th birthday. And the day before my birthday— my father was found murdered in his chambers. She placed the blame on me. Had everyone question my loyalty and manipulated them into believing that I was jealous and angry that it was possible that my father could have a son. The kingdom figured I wanted revenge— so I left and never came back. I’ve had a bounty on my head ever since.’ With her last words, she finally closed her palm, and the blue flame had finally died out.

Ciri’s green eyes glanced from her fist, to her face. She could tell that it still bothered her. Her eyes were sad, and her aura was blue. ‘What about your mother? What happened to her?’

‘She died from influenza when I was 10…’ her brown eyes finally met Ciri’s face once again.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I was pretty young when my parents died too…’ she paused, ‘Do you remember her? Do you miss her?’

The thought of her mother made Phoenix’s heart grow 10 times the size! Her mother was noble, intelligent, kind, brave— and most of all, she loved her only daughter with her every fiber. She sniffed, blinking back tears. ‘Every day Ciri, every day.’

Cirilla’s head forward, looking down in her own reflection of the water. ‘I don’t remember much of my parents. But my grand mother was my everything. She was strong, wise and she— only wanted to protect me.’

Phoenix nodded with a smirk, ‘Yes. Queen Calanthe of Cintra. She was a force! I am terribly sorry for your loss, Lion Cub,’ she leaned forward and gently placed her finger tips beneath her chin to lift her head, ‘Had she been here today to see you— she would be so proud of you. I know it.’ Ciri’s eyes filled with thick tears as a sweet smile curled on her lips.

Then, a sudden knock interrupted the moment. ‘Cirilla,’ and Geralt walked through the door, with soft yellow robes in his fist, ‘Are you antagonizing our company?’ Ciri cleared her throat and stood up. ‘She’s fine Geralt. We were just having a heart to heart.’ Geralt glanced from Phoenix to Ciri who had just a half smile. ‘Hmm, go get cleaned up for dinner. Lambert is making it.’

Ciri rolled her eyes, ‘lovely,’ she said in a sarcastic tone and started towards the door, ‘Gross.’

Phoenix let out a gentle chuckle, shaking her head. ‘You’re too hard on that girl.’ She took the bar of soap and started washing her body off.

‘Only to protect her. It gets the job done.’ He said leaning against the wall.

‘Oh look at you… sounding like a father…’

‘Hmph, unfortunately.’

‘You know it causes her to rebel,’ she paused for a second, watching as his face mold into something more treacherous. ‘Look, I know — how special Ciri is. I can… feel it when I’m near her. How powerful she is. But if you become too strict and allow the roles of power and parenting to mix— it won’t end pretty. Not for you. Not for this world.’

Geralt stood there with his arms folded in silence.

Phoenix sucked at her teeth, ‘fine. Don’t listen to me then.’ And she started rinsing her body off. She then stood up, stretching out her curvaceous body as she did so. She then reached over and grabbed the white, red wine stained towel and patted down her body before completely wrapping it around her bare breasts. Geralt stared. As he always did when he saw her naked.

‘You could always paint a picture, Witcher,’ her back was turned, ‘It may last longer.’ She smirked.

He rolled his eyes and stood up straight, ‘Well it’s too bad my brushes no longer have their bristles.’ Such a smart ass. ‘I only wish to bring you this.’ And he placed the folded up dress on the stool. ‘Don’t take too long Princess. The wine and ale will be gone before it touches the table top.’ He smirked as he turned away and walked out of the bathroom.

***

Phoenix sucked in a deep breath, sucking in that tummy as she reached behind her to tighten that corset in the back. She had forgotten what it was like to wear things like this. Even though the fortress was in ruin, Vesemir had seem to have the finest of threads when it came down to the women.

Once she was done, she finally took a breath in relief and walked over to the mirror. She smooth out her the fabric on her stomach, stood up straight and walked out of the bathroom.

She listened to them. Their obnoxious laughter could navigate her even through the darkest of nights without her powers. And when she drew closer to the main hall, she swallowed her spit and held her chin high.

There it was again. The silence. All those eyes glaring at her from across the room as if she was a fish out of water. But she stared back, showing them that she wasn’t the one to be frightened. Only they weren’t trying to scare her.

Suddenly, Ciri grabbed her hand. ‘Come. You can come sit with me and Geralt.’ Phoenix looked over at Ciri with a gentle smile, ‘I would love to.’ And the girls started towards the end of the table. As they walked, some of the men cat called and whistled after her. Things she had heard before but—

‘Well. I did wonder what was beneath all of those rags and to say to least, I’m impressed!’ Lambert said and the room went into an uproar of laughter.

Phoenix took a deep breath as she sat down in front of Geralt. ‘Knock it off Lambert.’ He was munching on a piece of meat. He didn’t dare look up or bat an eye though. It was like— he was in charge almost?

‘Aw shit brother! We’re just poking a lil’ fun. Pokin’.’ And the room rattled with laughter again. Ciri rolled her eyes and placed her hand on top of Phoenix’s, ‘Don’t pay him mind Phoenix. He’s a lonely old coot. When ever he sees a pretty girl, he says stupid things.’ She murmured as she popped a piece of bread in her mouth.

Phoenix chuckled and nodded, ‘I see.’ She reached over and took a piece of bread. But before she could pop it in her mouth, she heard twinkling. Chiming like charms. She didn’t realize how she’d missed it before.

She placed her bread down back into the bowl and stood up to her feet. She then carefully stepped over the bench and started to walk over to the The Witcher’s Medallion Tree.

Finally when she stood in front of it, she took notice of how many medallions that hung. She knew about the Sacking of Kaer Morhen— when the humans had come to rid them of their existence— but since then, they have seem to have lost so many more. There had to be at least 100 there.

Phoenix reached up to grab the closest one in her reach between her finger tips. Her thumb ran over the cold wolf engraved silver. As if she needed anymore proof that she was here, taking refuge here at the School of the Wolf.

‘You seem so fond of this place,’ Geralt said as he walked up behind her. ‘If you’d like we could always trade places? You slay the monsters for coin, and I get to sit on a throne, making demands all day.’ He scuffed and folded his arms.

Phoenix smirked and let go of the medallion, ‘Is that what you think ruling a kingdom is all about?’ She raised a brow, ‘I didn’t know you were interested in becoming King.’ She looked up at him, with her head slightly fallen to the side.

‘Hmm, I’m not. Too much responsibility. I’m just now trying to figure this Child of Surprise thing out— sure you don’t expect me to run a Kingdom?’ He smirked.

She inhaled slightly and tan her fingers through her thick curls, ‘Ahhh, yes.’ Then she turned to look back towards the Tree. ‘You— had to be young when the Sacking of Kaer Morhen happened. How many were there?’

Geralt looked up at the tree, ‘23 Witchers… 40 students…and over time more medallions were added to the Tree.’

Phoenix pressed her lips together, her heart squeezing in her chest. How could someone hurt such promising young souls. Most of them knew of nothing they did! Humans and their fear never did anyone good, now there weren’t many Witcher’s left to protect them from what hid in the darkness of night.

‘At least they will be remembered. My father’s Golden Knight, Levy, told me the stories and read me the books,’ she scuffed, ‘Treated them as if they were horror stories but, I was much more intrigued on how to become one and why women weren’t allowed.’ She turned around to face him again.

‘We have our reasons. Will you join us now?’

Phoenix pressed her lips together, 'I will join you and Ciri in a second.' she looked back at the tree one more time as Geralt turned away and walked back towards the table. She stared up at the tree, getting lost in the sounds of the gentle jingling. Then a gentle smile curled on her full lips. This was all, in the strangest of ways, a dream come true.

[thelostgirl21]

For @my-jokes-are-my-armour, just a tiny snippet from a WIP accompanying a fanvid I made (that has yet to have been released publicly), where Radovid and Geralt have their first heart to heart regarding their respective place in Jaskier's life...

-----

Once they’re sure the boys are going to be okay, the rest of the family manage to convince Jaskier to let them have their own turn getting properly introduced and being given the chance to build their own bond with his prince.

The most surprising, perhaps, is Geralt.

Radovid isn’t exactly sure what he’d been expecting because, until then, Yennefer had been this regular nurturing and mother-like figure often checking up on him with her magic, occasionally fluffing his pillows, fixing his covers, and watching over his sleep whenever they managed to convince a very stubborn and overprotective bard to go get some much needed rest, too.

Ciri had been that distinctive voice that had kept hovering around, and keeping Jaskier company whilst he slept, occasionally offering him a slightly shy and polite smile whenever he woke up and their gazes met.

But Geralt…  his strongest memory involving the man been the enraged growl that had managed to cut through the fog and the darkness that had been closing in on him, right before he’d suddenly found himself gasping for air – his throat raw and on fire – but blissfully able to breathe again.

Geralt had since been the more elusive of Jaskier’s companions – keeping a watchful eye from the distance, expression impassive, occasionally warning Jaskier that if he refused to listen to Yennefer and go rest, he’d personally come pick him up and physically shove him into bed himself!

Until now, he’d acted as the family’s guardian with a stoicism that one might expect from a seasoned warrior.  And, if he had to be perfectly honest, Radovid would have had to admit to having been slightly intimidated by him.

Not afraid – but out of all of Jaskier’s family, Geralt had been the one that had looked most like a figure of legend to him!  The famed Sandpiper’s powerful white-haired Witcher!

So, imagine his surprise when, the moment Geralt takes a seat next to him, he turns into that big soft fluffy white wolf that Jaskier had been talking about but that Radovid himself had yet to have personally encountered.  What immediately comes out of his mouth is a long list of things that one should know to take proper care of Jaskier.

“…often, during winter months, his feet really tend to get cold, even when sleeping inside an inn with a well-kept fire burning in the fireplace.  So, sometimes, I heat a few rocks over the fire that I wrap in a soft wool cloth and slide under the cover next to his feet…”

And, at first, Radovid listens – partly because he wants to learn as much as he can to be a good partner for Jaskier, too, but also because he’s way too stunned to do anything else!

Eventually, though, it dawns on him that Geralt sounds like he expects Radovid to replace him, and he says “You know that you’re one of the most – if not the most important person in the world to Jaskier – and I’ve no desire to take him away from you, right?”

And, while Geralt appreciates the sentiment – and agrees that their bard has a huge heart and that there’s room in it for more than a single person (actually, you could probably fit the whole Continent into that heart!) – he also knows that Jaskier ‘imprinted’ on Radovid in a way that’s a bit different than how he ‘imprinted’ on him when they first met.

Radovid is not ‘stealing Jaskier away’ from Geralt.  Jaskier is naturally drawn to him, seeking his presence, and bonding with him in a way that highly suggests that the king is the one member of their found family that the bard will be naturally seeking to build the bulk of his life with, and following around most often from now on.

And Geralt is okay with that.  Because Jaskier is going to continue to grow older, and his feet will only get colder, and although he loves going on adventures and seeing the world, eventually it might be a lot more appropriate and convenient for him to do so traveling by coach while having access to a warm, comfortable bed at night.

And if Radovid is genuine in his desire to improve the living conditions for the peasantry as well as the North’s relationship with the other races they are sharing the land with, then Jaskier will want to get actively involved.

Geralt can sense that the bard is simply entering a new chapter of his life and that Radovid is going to be right at the heart of said chapter.

In many ways, it feels right, too.  Radovid is human and roughly around the same age as Jaskier…  They have a similar perception of time and – assuming the Gods are kind – they might get to share and experience the rest of their lives together.

Of course, should anything happen to one of them, they can count on Yennefer and him – and probably even Ciri – to watch over the other for as long as they shall live.

And they’re not planning on simply walking out of their lives, either – far from it!

But there’s no need for Geralt to be right at the center of Jaskier’s life to still be a part of it.  Truth is, they’ve often lost sight of each other for a few months or years at a time in the past.  But, as soon as they see each other again, they feel as though they’ve never left each other’s side.

That’s how strong the love between them is, and Geralt doesn’t expect it to be something that will ever change regardless of how many others Jaskier might love.

The one change that Radovid does bring, however, is that Geralt will sleep much better at night knowing that, whenever they’re apart, there’s someone that genuinely loves him looking out for him.  Someone that truly appreciates Jaskier’s music and talents and shares his artistic sensitivities, among others.

Plus, Geralt knows that Jaskier sees Radovid as a person first, a poet second, and a king – or prince – third.  Same as he saw a scared child with the weight of the world on her shoulders when he met Ciri, and continues to treat her as if she’s a young girl needing love, guidance and protection rather than one of the most powerful beings on the Continent.

While the world keeps making demands from her, Jaskier is more interested in offering her a listening ear, support, and teaching her things.

People often expect kings and queens to watch over them and sacrifice for them, but very few of them wonder who watches over the kings and queens to ensure they don’t lose sight of themselves in the process.

What Radovid did, trying to foolishly stand between Dijkstra and Philippa and his people to protect them from their greed shows that he’s got the whole ‘willingness to make sacrifices for his people’ thing down.

He even took a knife to the guts in an attempt to do the right thing by stopping an innocent family from being robbed.

And, the moment they all realize how much Radovid cares, his people might attempt to take full advantage of that while forgetting that he’s only human, and thus demanding more from him than anyone would ever be able to offer!

Jaskier won’t let them forget, and most importantly he won’t let Radovid forget.

So, assuming they can manage to help Radovid reclaim Redania – and Geralt has no doubt they can – he will also sleep better at night knowing that those in power that do attempt doing the right thing and dare dreaming of something better for their people aren’t always punished for it.

Knowing that Ciri might become queen at a time where she won’t have to stand alone against bigger and more powerful kingdoms dominated by a thirst for blind power and greed!

Knowing that she, too, might continue to find people that will love and support her without letting her lose sight of herself.

Everyone deserves to have someone by their side that can see past what others needs them or are trying to push them to be...

Jaskier’s already made the whole Continent much friendlier to witchers than it used to be, brought him Yennefer, and Ciri…

All Radovid has to do is give him the signal, and that bard will rally his people behind their king, make them all fucking fall in love with him, have the elves, dwarves, and other races want to become his allies, and give him all the resources he needs to use his position for good.

Because Geralt can see how pissed off at Redanian nobility Jaskier is right now!  As far as the bard is concerned, they all let Radovid down by allowing Dijkstra and Philippa to rob him of his voice and refusing to listen to him.

And a pissed off bard like Jaskier, with a powerful voice that carries over seas and mountain, will make everyone listen whether they want to or not!

With Dijkstra dead, Philippa on the run, and that Duke’s son they put on the throne to use as a puppet in Radovid’s place, Redania’s nobility will either have to step aside and let Radovid walk right back in, or risk permanently losing whatever little influence they might still hope to cling to.

It'll be fine.  And if a realist like Geralt – with a tendency towards disillusioned fatalism – says it’ll be fine, then Radovid can trust that it will be.

And Radovid can see why Jaskier loves Geralt so much that he’d be willing to follow him right into hell, and then help him fight his way back out of it!

He’s a good man through and through, that’s spent his whole unnaturally long life standing between others and the monsters threatening them, while having one of the most noble, compassionate and gentle hearts he’s ever seen.

“I’ve once asked Jaskier if you knew how lucky you were to have him, but I think he’s lucky to be have you, too,” he finds himself saying.

Geralt’s instinctive mocking, disbelieving huff is so filled with guilt and self-hatred that it utterly breaks Radovid’s heart, and triggers an odd sense of righteous outrage and protectiveness in him.

Geralt’s mouth starts moving, but he immediately cuts him off.

“Jaskier told me about the mountain.  I know.  It doesn’t change anything,” he states firmly, head held high, fixing Geralt with a stare that’s uncannily authoritative and almost dares him – or anyone really – to challenge him.

And, for a moment, Geralt freezes.  Because he fully realizes that the person sitting in bed before him – recovering from a violent assassination attempt – is none other than the direct descendant of King Radovid the Great.

And that, the very first time he personally gets to witness him display the kind of inner strength and resolve that one would typically expect from such a king – the kind that leaves no room for dissent and sharply reminds anyone that would seem to have forgotten that his word in the land is law – it’s essentially to tell him: ‘Jaskier’s lucky to have you!  Now stop with your nonsense, and deal with it!’

And the worst part is that it’s working! 

That twink of a king – sitting in bed with probably still a fourth of his blood missing, looking like he’s ready to wage holy war on anyone daring to suggest that Geralt is not as good a friend to Jaskier as he’s royally decreed him to be – is actually making the crushing guilt he’s usually experiencing over what happened on that mountain want to bow down to him and quickly scutter out of his sight before it actually manages to draw out the king’s full anger!

The situation feels so surreal and absurd that, before he can fully realize what’s happening or have a chance to stop it, Geralt’s shoulders are shaking, and he’s starting to laugh…

And, just like that, Radovid’s scowl is loosening, and his shoulders are also starting to shake, too, and the two of them just end up laughing to tears together!

It takes a confused and almost alarmed bard – having been alerted by the unfamiliar sound of a witcher dissolving into a fit of laughter and rushing in to investigate to make sure he’s not suddenly dying or something – for them to finally manage to regain control of themselves.

“Just so you know, that king of yours is a bloody menace that will have the whole Continent bowing to his will in no time!” Geralt amusedly declares, wiping at his eyes.

“I try!” Radovid shrugs, while trying to catch his breath, still visibly sharing in Geralt’s amusement while obviously not knowing him well enough to fully grasp just how unusual the response he got from him was.

Jaskier, however, remains very confused and somewhat agitated. “Wait.  Hold on.  How did you make him laugh?  I never even knew he could laugh like that!”

“Huh,” Radovid answers noncommittally – and Geralt has a sense that Radovid is very intentionally choosing to use diversion, so Geralt will be free to enjoy the cathartic moment they’d just experienced without returning to that place of self-doubt and self-hatred by being reminded of the path that had taken them there in the first place.

Because he’s now slightly yawning and stretching like a kitten, burrowing himself back into the bed’s pillows, and lifting the covers as a clear sign that he’s tired and wants Jaskier to come and join him.

And, when the bard attempts to hold his ground, his prince decides to give him the kind of sad, imploring look that Geralt genuinely thought said bard was the only being on the Continent able to so expertly pull off!

“Oh!  I see how it is!  Just because you are lying there pouting – looking all adorably affectionate and tired – you think I’ll just drop the issue and jump right into bed to cuddle you instead, is that it?” Jaskier says, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest and looking clearly unimpressed.

There’s a pause, where the imploring look improbably intensifies (how?), and then, very gently and quietly…

“…Yes?”

Jaskier gives him an exaggerated sigh and throws his hands up in the air “Alright okay, FINE,” making Radovid immediately perk up.  “Now scoot your pretty little royal ass over…”

They manage to maneuver themselves into a single bed, Radovid half sprawled on top of Jaskier, the bard tenderly running his fingers into his now shorter hair making the other man – wait, is he purring?

It’s pretty clear to Geralt that whatever they might still need to discuss will have to wait, but it’s okay – by the absolutely smitten expression on Jaskier’s face it’s rather clear that their bard is set on keeping him around for a very, very long time, so there will be plenty of opportunities for them to continue catching up!

[bambirex]

The World Is Yours, If You Seek The Good: Chapter 13

Pairings: Geraskefer, Geraskier, Yennskier, Yenralt

Characters: Jaskier, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt of Rivia, Ciri of Cintra, Lambert

Additional tags: implied/referenced abuse, forced pregnancy, mpreg, creature fic, fae Jaskier, creature Yennefer, captivity, enemies to friends to lovers, polyamory, found family, hurt/comfort, it starts out angsty but it will get better, completely made up lore, fertility issues, completely made up skills and powers, angst, angst with a happy ending, whump, Jaskier whump, Yennefer whump, intersex Jaskier, Ciri whump, Geralt whump, blood, nightmares, injury, wound care

Rating: mature

Chapters: 13/20

Full word count: 40,194 words

Chapter word count: 2,974 words

Summary: Used and abused by humans, Jaskier and Yennefer believe they are alone and with no reason to trust anybody. That is, until they meet each other - and then, a couple of other strange misfits.

Chapter summary: Ciri practices her magic with Yennefer. They become even closer during the process, and Ciri reveals another, disturbing layer of her powers. Geralt and Jaskier have a moment together.

Author's notes: I hit a bit of a roadblock with this fic, but I think I know where I'm taking this, at last!

Read on Ao3

*

Ciri closed her eyes, focusing inwards. She pursed her lips into a thin line, each muscles in her face and the rest of her body pulled tight in concentration. She could feel frustration building inside her as her mind missed the connection to her body. A gentle hand touched her back.

"Relax," Yennefer told her softly. "Don't overdo it."

"It's hard," Ciri admitted with a sigh of defeat. She lowered her hands and turned around, giving Yennefer a wounded look. "I'm afraid I will never get it right."

"We'll try our best," Yennefer promised. "Sometimes, it's the most we can do. Your power is huge, Ciri. It makes sense you struggle with it."

Ciri scoffed softly. She turned around and watched the small tree trunk that she was practicing on- well, tried to, mostly. Apparently, achieving full acces to the chaos inside her wasn't as easy as Yennefer made it look. She could set a whole town ablaze with just the touch of her fingertips, effortlessly. She carried so much power within her, and she was in charge of it, not the other way around like in Ciri's case. Her own powers seemed to control her, instead, and barely behaved when she needed them to. She wasn't sure if she would ever be able to wield her magic like Yennefer did.

"You all say that I have so much power, that I'm so special," Ciri murmured, wrapping her arms around herself tiredly. She looked down on the ground. "And yet, I barely see any of it. When I screamed and that tree fell, that was just an accident. I can't do it on purpose."

"Yes, you can," Yennefer stepped closer. She brushed Ciri's hair back from her face, pulling it into a quick braid at the back of her head. Ciri bit her lip when she realized her childish pout was fully revealed. Yennefer only smiled at it.

"I know you have it in you, Ciri. We all do. And I'm not gonna lie to you, I am also in the dark about the full extent of your powers. But we do have similarities, and that's what we need to work on. I will help you with whatever I can."

"Geralt finally taught me some sword skills," Ciri smiled. "You know how long I've been begging him to? It sucks that it took me revealing I have Elder blood for him to realize I wasn't a helpless little flower."

"I don't think it's just about that. Geralt is a bit overprotective of you, it makes sense. But it has become clear for him that he cannot keep any more secrets from you. And if we want to survive in this world, we have to rely on our own strength."

"So, you say there's another reason he opened up," Ciri smirked. She looked up at Yennefer, and chuckled when she saw the confused look on her face. "What, no idea what that reason could be?"

"Absolutely none," Yennefer scoffed. The tell-tale flush on her cheeks made Ciri grin wider.

"Oh, come on. As if you can't tell. Geralt is in love with you. And Jaskier, too. And you're also in love with the both of them."

Making a mighty drepima splutter and scramble for words while blushing deep red was no small feat, so Ciri felt immensely proud upon seeing how Yennefer's brain stopped working for a good minute.

"That's... How can you tell?"

"It's obvious. When are you guys admitting it to each other?"

"Well," Yennefer gave her a small smile, "Jaskier and I may have kissed the other day."

Ciri squealed. Finally! It was so painfully obvious that despite all the banter and teasing, the fae and the witch were head over heels for each other.

"How was it?"

"Okay, can we return to your training?" Yennefer rolled her eyes, but the smile never disappeared from her face. Ciri smirked. Those three were so painfully obvious. The deep connection between Yennefer and Jaskier was evident from the start, then Jaskier wasn't exactly subtle about his attraction to Geralt, and while Geralt tried be subtle about his own feelings for the fae, Ciri often caught him staring at him affectionately. Yennefer did need a lot of time to open up, but soon enough, it became clear she got attached to Geralt, and vice versa.

Geralt wasn't as much of a lone wolf as he claimed himself to be. He loved his witcher brothers, and he loved Ciri. Deep inside his heart, he did long for a connection. Ciri was happy that it seemed like he was finally getting it, in quite large amounts lately.

She was happy about it for her own reasons as well- she felt a bond to these creatures since the day they've showed up here, and Ciri never wanted to lose them. It seemed like they were truly turning into a family, as Ciri hoped they would be.

"You know, I'm really happy you guys get along so well," Ciri said, smiling up at Yennefer. "It means a lot to me, after everything."

She bit down on her lip as the memories flooded her brain.

"I lost everything. Everyone. I thought I would never have a family again. And then Geralt came, and yes, he can be a bit weird, but he loves me. And I love him. And then, you guys came along, and now I have a family again."

"You'll always have a family with us," Yennefer promised her softly. "I'm sorry for what you had to go through. All that suffering isn't meant for a child."

"Or an adult," Ciri pointed out. "You did not deserve what you had to go through, either. But things are gonna be okay now, Yennefer. You will also always have a family here."

Yennefer reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her eyes were a little misty as she smiled at Ciri.

"Now it's really time we continued your training," she said quietly. Ciri shook her head.

"Not yet. I wanna tell you one more thing. I know what you think of yourself, that you're some scary, destructive monster, but that's not true. You're incredible, Yennefer. Your powers are wonderful, and special. You inspire me all the time. I hope I'll be like you, one day."

Yennefer blinked at her, her lips twitching. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, staring at Ciri with a mix of bewilderment and something else - hope, maybe. The hope that she could be a beloved presence, instead of a feared one. That she could mean something to someone.

For Ciri, she was slowly turning into a mother figure - something she's missed out on. Well, her grandmother was there, but she didn't have a lot of time to spend with her, with her royal duties and the many battles she needed to fight and win. Ciri has been aching for a gentle, motherly love - and while Yennefer's love was often tough, rough at the edges and unpolished, what with her never having had to take care of a child before, what with her living most of her life in utter loneliness, her love was very much needed, and appreciated. She was another lifeline Ciri could hold onto.

Ciri squeaked softly when Yennefer pulled her into a crushing hug. She wound her arms around Ciri, holding her close. Ciri happily burrowed into her arms. Yennefer's skin was colder than Jaskier's, colder than Geralt's, but Ciri still found the warmth she needed in that hug.

"This means a lot to me," Yennefer admitted against Ciri's hair quietly. "That you would look at me that way."

"I'm being serious," Ciri promised. She pulled back slightly to look up at Yennefer. "I thought my world ended when I found out about my heritage. I didn't know what to do with it. With that knowledge, and that power... I felt lost. But you're here. And you're helping me, and you're being so patient, even though I'm a shit student."

"You're not," Yennefer laughed softly. She gently patted Ciri's cheek. "I promised you I would make sure you'll learn to control these powers. And I'm fully intent on keeping that promise."

She gently turned Ciri back towards the tree trunk. She helped Ciri keep her arms straight by a supporting touch on her elbow.

"Relax, and try to shut everything out," Yennefer told her. "Don't be afraid of the power that is within you, but also don't underestimate it. Try to find a healthy balance. It's a part of you."

Ciri closed her eyes again, trying to loosen her muscles. She willed her brain to focus on only her inner voice and that deep rumbling of the magic within her core. She let it flood her cells, pump away in her blood. She faintly heard Yennefer's encouraging words through the haze that slowly filled her brain.

There was only a flicker of light at her fingertips, just a tiny bit of warmth - yet, Yennefer looked at her so proudly, as if it was a huge achievement.

"You're getting there," Yennefer told her with a smile. "You're learning to bring the fire to the surface. That's not easy. And you had better control of your screams last time. Only thing you have to do now is believe that you have it in you."

Ciri smiled, feeling her heart flutter with happiness. Indeed, it felt easier to get even that flicker out - maybe she wasn't a lost cause. Maybe she could truly learn to control her powers, instead of letting them control her.

Speaking of which, she believed this was the perfect time to ask Yennefer a question.

"You said our powers are mostly similar because of the link in our heritage," she started quietly, "do drepimas have visions, too?"

Yennefer arched an eyebrow at her. "Visions?"

"Yes. Weird dreams."

"Everyone has weird dreams, Ciri. And it makes perfect sense you would have nightmares about the things that happened to you. I have them, too. So does Jaskier. And I bet even Geralt does."

"I don't just dream about Cintra. I used to, but it's different, lately. I think... I think I'm dreaming about the future."

She really didn't like the way Yennefer's cheeks paled, nor the way the obvious concern filled her eyes.

"And what do you see?" Yennefer asked. Ciri swallowed thickly.

"An unfamiliar place. Metal bars. You and Jaskier injured. I'm screaming for Geralt, but he never comes. And as I scream, everything falls apart around me and everyone gets hurt, and..."

Her throat constricted around the words as she relived the nightmares. Yennefer cupped her cheeks soothingly.

"What makes you think they're visions, Ciri?"

"I don't know," she admitted weakly, "but I'm scared they are. And last night, I..."

She took a deep breath as she saw the man's face in front of her eyes again. A man that she didn't know, and who was yet so familiar. Someone who should have radiated warmth, but his heart was cold as ice. He was dangerous.

"I dreamt about a man. I don't know who he is but it's still like I've met him before. And I think he wants to hurt me. Us."

"Ciri, it's okay," Yennefer cooed. Ciri didn't even realize she was crying until she felt Yennefer wiping her tears away. "We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise. Let's hope these are just senseless nightmares. Anything is possible, you know? When you have power like this, it can sometimes mess with your head."

She took Ciri into her arms again. Ciri sighed and propped her chin up on her shoulder, staring at the tree trunk.

She hoped Yennefer was right. And if she wasn't... well, then Ciri hoped she would get full access to her powers in time to protect herself and her family.

--

Maybe one day Geralt would get used to this feeling, that warmth inside his chest - this giddy, all-encompassing sensation that filled him almost every single day lately. It was still so new, and he still grappled with trying to describe it. Maybe the best word for it was love, a word that he thought he forgot a long time ago. Yet, it was definitely love he felt for Ciri, and it only got stronger the longer he spent taking care of her.

And it was very possibly love he felt for the two creatures he hosted in his hut. That was why his heart beat so fast when he watched as Yennefer trained with Ciri. She was so gentle with her, not too soft but patient and caring. She smiled so brightly at Geralt's daughter, with so much pride in her eyes. They laughed together, and it was the sweetest sound Geralt has ever heard.

And that was why he smiled uncontrollably when he caught a whiff of sweet cinnamon scent, and felt Jaskier's body radiate heat next to him.

"She seems like a really good teacher, doesn't she?" Jaskier asked, his own smile matching Geralt's. "Who would have thought!"

"Ciri really trusts her," Geralt said. "And I trust her, too."

"That's a big deal," Jaskier said softly. "Since, you know, you were so apprehensive in the beginning. Not that I blame you for it. But I know how hard it is for you to trust people, especially when it comes to Ciri. It means a lot that you opened up to Yennefer like that. She's clearly important to you."

"And you," Geralt added, turning to Jaskier. "You're important to me, too."

The fae blushed softly. "Why, that's a very lovely thing to say."

"I do mean it."

"I know," Jaskier replied, smiling up at Geralt from under his lashes.

Geralt looked down on Jaskier's stomach. It was growing bigger every day. He only had a couple of months to go now. Geralt felt a strange excitement over getting to meet Jaskier's baby soon.

"Are you feeling comfortable?" He asked, still looking at Jaskier's stomach where the fae now was resting a gentle hand. "Do you need anything?"

"No, thank you," Jaskier smiled. "I'm feeling perfect, actually. You know, it's a whole lot different, going through a pregnancy like this."

"Like what?"

"Surrounded by people I love."

There was so much genuine emotion in what he said - in everything he said and did, to be honest. Jaskier wore his heart on his sleeve, forming a perfect antonym to Geralt and Yennefer's more closed-off personalities. Geralt and Yennefer fit together, because they were so similar, and Jaskier fit in with them, because he was different. He completed them.

"We're here for you," Geralt replied earnestly. "Whatever you need, you'll get it."

"Even a giant cake with fifteen layers, dripping with chocolate?"

"I guess," Geralt laughed. "Whatever."

"Just kidding," Jaskier laughed with him, gently elbowing him in the side. He turned his attention back to Ciri and Yennefer. "So, I assume, we're all sticking together from now on. Does that mean that if we ever had to leave this place - and I've overheard you talking about it with Lambert -, you're taking us with you?"

"Yes. Of course. When winter comes, I wanna take Ciri to Kaer Morhen. The witcher keep."

"And if something happens in the meantime?"

"I'll figure something out," Geralt promised. "Winter is only a couple months away. Until then, we stay put. I used to think being on the road constantly was the only way to avoid danger, but I changed my mind since Ciri came along. She's safer in hiding."

"And practicing her chaos with Yen. And I also heard you thought her some sword skills, as well."

Geralt smiled at the memory. "She's good with a sword. She's an extraordinary kid."

"With an extraordinary father," Jaskier told him. The smile he gave Geralt was so beautiful, the witcher had to look away for a second.

He only turned back when he saw Jaskier fiddling with something from the corner of his eyes. Geralt watched curiously as Jaskier took a crushed, dry buttercup into his hand. He caressed it with his finger gently, his hand emitting a soft glow. The dead flower returned to life under Jaskier's touch, its browned leaves becoming harsh green once again. The sadly hanging flowers popped up again, coloring with a bright, happy yellow. Its scent picked up, sweet and carefree, more intense than before it dried out- almost as if it was grateful that the fae brought it back to life.

Jaskier noticed Geralt staring at him. He smiled brightly. Then, he reached out, and gently tucked the renewed flower behind Geralt's ear, into his hair.

"Pretty," Jaskier said with a happy sigh. Geralt swallowed. He never had been called pretty in his life, not with his giant, broad built, his scars and his unnerving, yellow eyes. Not with his unruly white hair and his unnatural, menacing presence.

He should have felt embarrassed about it. Instead, he felt his cheeks flush as he smiled.

He wrapped an arm around Jaskier's shoulder and pulled him close, letting him rest his weight against him. Jaskier put his head on his shoulder with a happy sigh, his own arm snaking around Geralt's waist, holding him close.

Geralt rested his cheek atop Jaskier's head. He inhaled his sweet scent, and he smiled. He remembered when this scent first hit his nose, faint and suspicious, mixing with Yennefer's exotic lilac and gooseberry scent. Geralt still remembered how confused that wild perfume made him, not yet knowing that the creatures Ciri was hiding in her room would one day mean so much to him.

His life had changed so much in the past few months, Geralt barely recognized it. But it did not scare him anymore. In fact, it filled him with so much happiness. Maybe that made him a strange witcher, but he did not mind.

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

I saw you were asking for prompts for when you get home, and i have a very simple three worded prompt for you as per your challenge. "You absolute bitch." i hope you'll be able to de-stress! harness that true zen.

(we’re getting a little pirate-y and a little whump-y here, but it’s only to facilitate fluff)

tw: physical assault, kidnapping, h/c

---

“You absolute bitch,” the strange captain laughs, slapping Jaskier across the face. The impact is loud and snaps the young half-siren’s head to the side. His hair flies into his shocked, wide-open eyes, blinding him. “You thought you could just escape?”

“Yes.”

Another slap, this time in the opposite direction. Jaskier’s ears are ringing and he’s feeling nauseated and dizzy.

“Nobody escapes the Flogging Molly,” the dirty, balding man snarls. “Especially not precious cargo like yourself.”

“Damaged cargo, now,” the captive chuckles dryly. “Do you think anyone will pay a good price for bruised property?”

“Yer face’ll be pretty again by the time we make landfall,” the pirate spits. He glances up to the crewmen holding Jaskier’s arms behind his back. “Toss ‘im in the brig.”

Jaskier doesn’t see another living person again for at least two days.

---

“Little nymph!” Geralt shouts, slamming the cell door of the brig open and rushing to gather Jaskier into his arms. He worriedly brushes the hair back from the younger man’s eyes, which gaze up at him with cloudy confusion. “Little nymph?”

“Who’re you?”

“Jaskier!?” Lambert calls, slamming his way down the stairs behind his Captain. “Did you find him, sir?”

“Aye,” the White Wolf snarls. He stands, clutching Jaskier tightly to his chest, bridal-style. “What they’ve left of him.”

“Let’s kill the dirty bastards.”

“We’re going to kill the bastards and burn their ship,” the Captain decides. Lambert nods. 

---

The crew takes care of disengaging from the Flogging Molly, which is burning slowly into the waterline behind them. Geralt takes Jaskier to their shared cabin and asks Starkey to kindly bring them some hot water from the galley. He takes one look at Jaskier’s bruised, bloody, emaciated form and rushes to comply. 

Geralt sits on the edge of their shared bed and cradles the half-siren on his lap. He doesn’t know what else to do, so he starts to sing quietly, rocking his darling as he waits for Starkey to return. 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don't take my sunshine away.”

Starkey waits until the Captain has finished before entering with the warm bowl of water, and he leaves quickly to give them some time alone. The crew can handle the rest. Geralt hadn’t slept between losing Jaskier in the small port village and finding him again. 

---

Jaskier feels the cool press of a tin mug against his lips as cool water is tipped down his throat. Someone is humming in a deep, rumbling baritone and it soothes him all the way down to his bones. Some primal part of him is achingly proud and possessive of the voice; his siren half, probably. 

A warm, damp cloth swipes across his left collarbone and Jaskier jerks in surprise. The humming stops and he hears his husband ask, “Are you awake, sweet siren?”

“Barely,” he manages to croak. Geralt runs a hand through his hair and Jaskier closes his eyes, soaking in the contact. “You saved me.”

“Of course.”

“Come lay down. I want to be held.”

“You need to eat something, my love. You’re weak.”

“And I am wanting,” the younger man replies. His voice feels foreign; he hasn’t spoken in forty-eight hours. He reaches out and his arms fall back to his sides instantly. He’s too weak to hold them up.

Geralt’s eyebrows scrunch as he deliberates. Finally, he sighs. “Five minutes.”

[icrnwitcher]

Know what makes my heart explode? When tough men who keep themselves distant from anyone who may become attached or end up needing them become father figures to young impressionable children because they’re actually softies deep down even if they refuse to admit/show it.