#gearskier fluff

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

Geraskier Ladyhawke AU

I love this movie and honestly it really, really fits our two loveable idiots. Also yes I changed the parameters of the curse but that was only to make room for Ciri.

Ciri “the Last Rose” of Cintra escapes from a Nilfgaardian prison camp and disappears into the woods in search of help 

She is nearly recaptured by some local nobility’s guards while pilfering food but Geralt saves her along with the help of his trusting hunting hawk

They spend the night in an abandoned barn, and Geralt tells Ciri to stay in the hayloft for her own safety

But she’s a curious little shit

So some time in the middle of the night she peeks down over the edge of the loft and sees... a bard? A young man softly strumming a lute and singing while a huge white wolf lays sleeping with its head in the man’s lap

“Are you okay?” Ciri asks

“Of course, my child,” the bard replies. “Geralt would never hurt me.”

“Where is the hawk?”

The bard smiles sadly but doesn’t answer, so Ciri goes back to sleep to the sound of peaceful lute strumming

In the morning the wolf and bard are gone but Geralt and his hawk have returned (Ciri doesn’t bring it up out of politeness, and also she REALLY needs to hitch a ride back to Cintra)

Nilfgaard comes looking for Ciri and during a fight to escape, Geralt and his hawk are both severely wounded

They rush to a local temple, where the hawk is separated from Geralt and taken care of in its own private chamber, which Ciri finds extremely odd (cause it’s just a bird?)

While Geralt floats in and out of consciousness, he keeps asking about “Jaskier” but Ciri doesn’t know who that is

Ciri sneaks into the hawk’s room only to find the bard there instead

“You must be Jaskier, then. Geralt is worried about you.”

“He does that,” the bard smiles sadly. The only smile Ciri can get out of him is a sad one, it seems

The white wolf returns and allows both Ciri and Jaskier to pet it; although Ciri notices that the bandage on the wolf’s back leg looks suspiciously like the one she just helped tie onto Geralt and-

“Who put this curse on Geralt?”

“On both of us, you mean? I’m sure you must recognize me,” Jaskier teases, flicking his brown hair out of his bright blue eyes

“You’re the hawk! But... how did this happen?”

“I grew up as a nobleman and I was betrothed to a very wealthy sorceress. Unfortunately for her, I was already head-over-heels for Geralt, here. She cursed us to live like this, forever together yet always apart, until I gave in and agreed to marry her or until we could manage to achieve true love’s kiss.”

“So kiss him?” 

“We both have to be human, but it only happens for a split second between the sun setting and the sun rising. It’s impossible, I’m afraid.”

As they travel towards Cintra, Ciri begins to quietly practice using her own powers

She learns to pause the world around her one millisecond at a time until she can get to three whole seconds

Long enough for true love’s first kiss

As they near the border of her homeland (and safety) Ciri turns to her rescuers and explains her plain; unfortunately the sorceress appears and whisks Jaskier away at the last moment

Geralt and Ciri fight their way through her castle, trusting each other and affirming their father/daughter relationship as they go

They rescue Jaskier from the birdcage he’s been trapped in and Ciri waits for he sun to set while the Geralt holds off the few remaining guards

“Here we go, guys!”

She screams out the window at the top of her lungs, holding out her hands towards the horizon and freezing time for just a moment

Just long enough for Jaskier and Geralt to press their both-very-human lips together

The curse breaks and the two men fall into each other’s arms for the first time in over a decade, smooching and crying 

The sorceress is caught in the direct line of Ciri’s incredible power and straight up disintegrates (karma’s a bitch)

Ciri rejoices over the best possible outcome for her plan and leaves to fetch her new adoptive fathers both some better clothes and food

Geralt and Jaskier have a moment alone to touch and caress and talk to each other again

Lots of tears and kisses and gentle touches to be had here, folks

They agree to raise Ciri together since her kingdom has essentially fallen to Nilfgaard and Geralt agrees to train her as a knight/Witcher

And They All Lived Happily Ever After

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

Dialogue prompts:

"You feel sorry for him?"

"Happily ever after my ass. "

"I'm not the good guy."

"They feel real!"

"Be careful with that. It's still wet."

"What I want is for you to do as I ask without the attitude."

Just some ideas. Hope the creative juices start flowing!

“You feel sorry for him?” Geralt asks the witch. She glances over at Jaskier, who is smiling and singing, seemingly without a care in the world. Her eyes crinkle sadly at the corners and Geralt frowns; he doesn’t understand why she would feel sorry for someone who’s constantly smiling; someone he views as the brightest ray of sunshine on the Continent. He hates not understanding things, but especially this. “Why should you?”

“He loves deeply and truly and well,” she replies, “But he feels that it is not reciprocated by the object of his affections. He spends every day telling himself that he’s happy like this, just walking along without saying anything, but I can see in his eyes that his heart is breaking. Yes, Witcher, I feel very sorry for him, indeed. Your bard is leading a lonely life.”

“Who does he love? Perhaps if we visit them his mood will improve.”

“Hmm. I don’t think that would work.”

“Why not?”

She gives him a knowing smirk and his heart crashes down into the toes of his heavy leather boots. Oh. Oh no.

“You mean...”

“I do.”

“Fuck.”

“What about you, Witcher? How do you feel for the bard?”

Jaskier catches Geralt’s eye as the witch asks him the question and he already knows the answer. He’s already grinning at the bard, eyes shining with the happiness of a man seeing land for the first time after nearly drowning at sea. He rises from his chair and crosses the room quickly, eager to pull his bard (his bard) into his arms.

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

Phantoms in the Early Dark

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST AU

Title from “Maybe Sprout Wings” by The Mountain Goats, which is definitely the vibe for this story.

tw: nightmare

---

“No!” Jaskier’s shrill cries echoed down the long stone hallway and into Geralt’s room, waking the Witcher instantly from his deep sleep. He jumped into action when he heard the sheer terror in his consort’s ragged, sleep-addled voice. “Stop, please! That will hurt him! Enough!”

The Beast raced through the winding halls of the keep, turning sharply around the few corners that separated his suite from Jaskier’s own set of chambers. He didn’t pause to knock this time, bursting straight into his consort’s bedroom and racing to examine him. “Little bird?!”

Jaskier lay on the bed, his legs and arms tangled tightly in the sheets, restraining his movements to little shuffles and squirms. His night shirt had gotten rucked up around his ribcage and what skin had been exposed was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His chestnut hair was plastered to his forehead and his face had contorted with an expression of abject horror. “No! Not him, it wasn’t him. My Geralt, stop! Stop, please! No!”

The Beast sat at the edge of his consort’s four-poster and braced his hands against Jaskier’s shoulders, shaking him gently in an effort to rouse him. “Jask, my love. Darling, please wake up.”

The young man’s startlingly blue eyes burst open but remained unseeing; the sheets tightened around him as he tried to sit up and pulled him forcibly back down. The more restrained he felt, the more he struggled. Geralt began to try and unwind his legs, listening as his wriggling consort called out in terror, “Don’t! Enough! Don’t hurt…” his limbs moved slower and his eyelids fluttered. “Don’t hurt Geralt.”

The Beast inhaled sharply and finished unwinding the silk sheets from around Jaskier’s limbs and torso. He pulled his consort’s nightshirt back into place and laid him atop the (still dry) duvet, crossing his hands over his stomach like the princesses he’d seen drawn in books of fairytales. He pressed a tender kiss to the younger man’s forehead and ran the backs of his knuckles across Jaskier’s cheek. “My love. My consort. My heart, wake up. Wake up and see that everything will be alright.”

Jaskier muttered nonsense words and his brow remained furrowed. He sighed and whined and tilted his head back, baring his neck. Geralt truly panicked when he heard the boy whisper urgently, “No, not my Beast. Take me instead.”

He leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to Jaskier’s slightly parted lips. This time when those blue eyes flew open, they did so with panicked determination, scanning the room until they landed on Geralt’s hunched form. 

“Thank the gods, my love!” 

The younger man launched his torso off the mattress and clung to Geralt with all his weary strength. The Beast gathered his little bird into the comforting cage of his arms and situated the smaller man in his lap. He scooted up the mattress, laying them back against the headboard and pillowing Jaskier’s head against his chest. The peasant’s nimble fingers threaded their way through the ties of Geralt’s night-shirt and held on for dear life. “Don’t leave me tonight, Geralt. I don’t think I could bear losing sight of you.”

“Was it bad?”

“Terrible. The worst nightmare I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Because they were hurting me?”

“Yes. They were hurting you and they were threatening to take you away.”

Geralt marveled at the shudder that ran through his little bird with that admission. He’d never felt so utterly wanted in all his life. The smaller man’s face burrowed into his Beast’s neck and snuffled there for a moment, gathering up the safety of his tangy leather-and-metal scent. The Beast held his fragile consort tightly and began to purr, settling Jaskier’s bones more firmly against his skin as the rumbling went on.

“Thank you, my love,” the boy murmured into his skin. “I never want to lose you, either.”

“May I lay next to you tonight and keep the nightmares away?”

“That would be lovely.”

Jaskier allowed himself to be carried in Geralt’s arms from his rooms to the Beast’s. He gave no resistance as his darling Witcher tucked him against his warm, scarred side beneath the heavy covers. He tangled his legs with Geralt’s and rested his head atop his Beast’s left pectoral. 

He fell asleep with Geralt’s soft purring and steady heartbeat reverberating in his ears.

The Beast fell asleep a little later, after he’d finished reassuring himself of Jaskier’s safety and comfort. Only when the peasant lad was truly sleeping sweetly, his chamomile-honey scent drifting up into Geralt’s twitching Witcher nose, did Geralt allow himself to close his eyes and drift away. His consort stayed safe and happy in his arms all night, tucked against his Witcher’s side, the Beast’s warm breath blowing gently and rhythmically against the top of his head.

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

Three words... Alright, let's do this! Pirate AU -They find Ciri-

tw: death, death mention, no graphic descriptions tho

The ash-blond baby is tiny. 

So, so tiny.

Jaskier holds her in his arms like it’s second nature, though, cradling her to his chest and crooning at her in a language that Geralt only barely understands. He’s only ever heard Jaskier sound like this twice before; at their impromptu wedding at Castle Pankratz, and when the Captain was almost hung. 

This baby...

“Is she...like you?”

“Not quite.”

“But you’re using your Voice. You’re speaking the Language.”

“She is not like me,” Jaskier smiles. Geralt thinks the expression is almost sad. “But we are similar.”

“She isn’t a siren, then?”

Jaskier lowers the little girl’s chubby legs into the water and the two men watch them shift and connect into one short and equally chubby green-finned tail. The half-siren looks up at his husband with wide, watery eyes. “She’s beautiful. A mermaid.”

“Half-mermaid?”

“No, probably three-quarters. She shifts smoothly and she babbles only in the Language. She could live a full and comfortable life beneath the waves, totally ignorant of her human blood.”

“Where are her parents?” 

Jaskier gestures vaguely in the direction of a rocky outcropping and Geralt sees two distant figures. “They’re dead,” the brunette sighs. “I saw her all alone and went looking for them. It’s pretty bad. Fisherman’s net, I think. Their tails are...”

The younger man pulls the baby up out of the water and nearly crushes her against his chest. He begins to sway slightly and sing to her under his breath, quietly letting his Voice take over. Geralt steps away and thinks for a moment.

“We can take her with us.”

“What?”

“The baby, the mermaid.”

“Cirilla,” Jaskier says. Geralt raises an eyebrow. “She introduced herself.”

“Hmm.”

“Ciri can stay?”

“...Yes,” the pirate sighs. He gathers both of them into his arms and presses an instinctual, feather-light kiss to the top of the girl’s head. She gurgles and laughs, reaching out for his wolf medallion. He lets her play with it, already head-over-heels for the wide-eyed baby. “Oh yes, she can stay.”