(the highest voted options on the poll were ‘Geralt rescues Jaskier from trouble’ and ‘Jaskier riles the Captain up in public’ so I teamed up with the ever-marvelous, stupendously talented @limrx to bring you this Swashbuckling AU oneshot/art piece featuring a horribly jealous Geralt and a frisky, flirty Jaskier)
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“Do you think he likes me back?” Jaskier asked. He leaned over the ship’s railing to look more closely at the dolphin following behind them. Lambert didn’t think he’d fall overboard but it would be kind of funny if he did. The strange young nobleman did have a way of always landing on his feet, though.
“I know he does.”
“Well how come he hasn’t told me anything about it, then?”
“You’ve met the Captain, right? About this tall, long white hair, weird yellow eyes, emotionally incompetant?”
“You have a good point. Should I just confront him about it?”
“Yeah, sure.” Lambert rolled his eyes before shooting Jaskier a pointed look. “If you want to send your ransom note back to Lettenhove the following morning.”
“Fuck. I just want to kiss him, Lambert. Regularly. I want to know if he snores or not. I want to lay on the deck beneath the stars and talk to him like we’re friends and not just pirate and pseudo-pirate-captive. I really want to see what his ass looks like under those godsforsaken trousers, Lambert, it’s killing me not knowing.”
“You’re more insatiable than a siren during the rainy season,” the second mate teased. “But with fewer teeth.”
“Shut up.”
“Are you going ashore when we lay anchor?”
“Am I allowed?”
“I assume you’ll be allowed. You’re practically part of the crew. You’ve been aboard for nearly two weeks and you’ve pulled your fair share of the weight, if not moreso.”
“Why thank you, Lambert. I appreciate you noticing.”
“Of course, Jaskier. You may be an utter fool and a fop to boot, but at least you’re a hard worker.”
“Asshole.”
“Mhm.”
They both watched the dolphins for a minute in silence before Jaskier’s face split into the most heinous and dastardly grin. It filled Lambert with an unmistakable sense of fear and worry. “I have a brilliant idea. I know how to get Geralt to admit his feelings.”
“No, absolutely not. I am not getting roped into this, you horrible little minx. Don’t give me that look! I won’t help you this time!”
“But Lamby-bert,” Jaskier whined. “If he has someone to take all his frustrations out on in bed then I’m sure it’ll be easier to negotiate for higher shares next time we take a vessel.”
Lambert did not miss the fact that Jaskier said ‘we’ when referring to the crew. The second mate knew the little nobleman was here to stay; it had been clear that Jaskier would be sticking around from the moment Geralt first laid eyes (and hands) on him. The Captain hadn’t stopped looking out for the lad since. Lambert wasn’t even going to think about that singular flirty kiss atop the mainmast nearly a week and a half ago. Geralt had been pining after the acrobatic little idiot ever since and making absolutely no move to flirt back. It was driving the crew absolutely crazy. “Alright, you devilish siren. I’m in.”
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Jaskier cleaned up nice.
And he deserved to clean up nice. He’d worked hard to put this outfit together. Billy had lent him a pair of dark blue breeches in return for Jaskier’s help with mending the mainsail. The shirt he was wearing was half a size too big, which was exactly big enough for the neckline to plunge even lower than he usually wore it. This way it revealed more of his toned (and rather hirsute) chest. He’d borrowed it from Starkey, who was the same height as him but who had much broader shoulders.
The Captain was going to absolutely die when he saw Jaskier.
He whistled a rather naughty shanty as he exited the bunk room and made his way towards the gangplank where Starkey, Lambert, and Eskel were waiting for him. He spun in a quick circle, arms out to show off his clothes. Lambert and Starkey whistled appreciatively and Eskel hid his face in the palm of his hand. “Ready, boys?”
“Absolutely not,” Starkey smiled. The first mate standing next to him tilted his head back to look at the sky, sighing deeply.
“Are you sure about this? What if the Captain tries to kill Lambert?”
“He won’t be killing anyone. Hopefully. If he does run his sword through anyone, it will most likely be me,” Jaskier joked. “Now, this is my first time drinking with real pirates. Anything I should know?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Eskel suggested. Lambert bit back a laugh and Starkey snorted.
“Impossible.”
“Well then, let’s go.”
The four men made their way down onto the docks and through the sparse crowd of sailors and merchants still mingling in the evening light. Starkey led them to a decent tavern and found a vacant corner table, which gave them an excellent view of the door.
Geralt and Starkey had spent the morning selling their stolen cargo to various merchants, shopkeepers, and artisans. The Captain had divided up the gold between his crew according to their various contracts and Jaskier, more as a jest than anything else, was given two crowns as well. “For not dying,” Geralt had intoned seriously. The men were amused but Jaskier’s face had gone bright red with embarrassment. The young noble had talked them out of trouble with the Skelligan patrols twice last week and Geralt was repaying him with public humiliation? Lambert knew that the Captain’s earlier actions were about to make this evening a lot more entertaining (if slightly uncomfortable) and he was ready to get this show on the road. He flung an arm around Jaskier’s waist and ordered them all a round of ales.
“So everyone knows what the general goal here is, right?” Jaskier clarified.
“Yes,” Eskel nodded. “You’re using Geralt’s jealous nature to make him act on his less than subtle feelings for you.”
“Correct. Wonderful.”
Lambert squeezed the noble’s hip through his borrowed pants and Jaskier huffed indignantly in reply. Starkey chuckled softly at their antics and winked at the barmaid when she brought them their drinks. “Can’t wait, really. It’s been so boring lately and the last two ships we took didn’t even fight back. This is drama. This is entertainment!”
“Shut up, Starkey,” Jaskier pouted. He leaned back into Lambert’s embrace and gulped down half his ale.
“Slow down, kid,” the first mate teased. “Or you will be drunk when he gets here and your plan won’t work.”
“I need to get the pink in my cheeks or I’ll look suspicious,” Jaskier argued. “One ale should do it without getting me tipsy. Maybe two if it’s weak.”
“Method actors,” Lambert rolled his eyes.
Jaskier was sipping slowly at his second ale and the other three pirates were on their fourth or fifth when Geralt finally came barreling through the tavern door. “There you are!” Eskel shouted, waving the Captain over. Nobody missed the barely-hidden glare Geralt aimed at Lambert’s arm where it rested against the nobleman’s lower back.
“Captain,” the second mate nodded.
“Lambert. Eskel. Starkey.” Geralt greeted them all in turn.
“Heyyyy,” Jaskier whined, leaning forward against the edge of the table and pouting. “What about me, sir?”
“You.”
“Rude,” the brunette huffed. Lambert ran a lazy hand up and down his spine and Jaskier watched as Geralt’s eyes narrowed into slits. He sighed sadly and melodramatically into his mug and nodded once in the second mate’s direction. “Thank you, darling. At least someone in this crew likes me.”
Starkey saw Geralt’s eyelid twitch and slid Eskel two crowns under the table to settle their bet. He thought the vein on their Captain’s throat would show up before the eyelid went, but it must have been the first mate’s lucky night this time around. “Hey Eskel, let’s see if any of the lovely ladies here want to dance with us, eh?”
“You coming, Captain?” Eskel asked. “Seems like Jaskier and Lambert are a bit busy.”
“Yes, Geralt,” Jaskier egged him on. The Captain had a white-knuckled grip on the handle of his mug. The noble took a long swig of ale and licked a bit of foam from his lip when he was finished, noting the way Geralt’s eyes locked onto his mouth. “Why not go dance with a pretty lady. Certainly nobody else has your attention.”
The pirate Captain finally snapped. He slammed his mug down and reached around the table to grab Jaskier around the waist. He hauled him out of the second mate’s grip and onto his feet. “Captain, what are yo-”
“Yer coming with me, siren,” Geralt snarled. Lambert relinquished the nobleman with very little fuss, winking at Jaskier as the pirate Captain swung him up and over his broad shoulder. The young man flashed all three of his co-conspirators a thumbs up as he was carried out of the tavern like a sack of potatoes.
“A little rude to Lambert, don’t you think, sir?” he asked, resting his elbow against Geralt’s shoulder blade and settling his chin onto his hand. He crossed his ankles to make it easier for the pirate to balance his weight comfortably. “But they’ll be happy to know that our little plan worked out.”
Geralt stopped in his tracks but did not set his captive down. “Your what?”
“Our plan,” Jaskier explained as if bored. “To get you to finally do something about all this sexual tension between us. I kissed you on the mouth for fuck’s sake.”
“I thought it was an accident.”
“Oh, and saving you from hanging at the hands of some Skelligan officers, was that an accident? Not sending a ransom note last time we stopped for water and not turning you in for the reward in Novigrad, were those accidents too? There is a hefty bounty on your head, White Wolf, and I could be living independently in a castle somewhere right now except that I happen to find you endlessly attractive and fascinating.”
“Hmm.” Geralt resumed walking. Jaskier noticed with a smirk that his pace had picked up quite a bit. As if he was suddenly in a hurry to be somewhere.
“Hum dismissively all you like, sir, but you’re still carrying me back to your cabin to ravish me senseless, are you not?”
“Ravish may be the wrong word for what I’d like to do to you, but you do look rather tempting.”
“Thank you. I put a lot of effort into this ensemble.”
“You’re a calculating little nymph, aren’t you?”
“No, of course not. I only managed to secure a bunk aboard the Kaer Morhen and wrap its infamous captain around my finger in less than a month. I am but a silly nobleman with excellent dexterity and a penchant for climbing.”
“Lambert was right to call you a minx.”
“He does love that nickname.”
“It’s not an endearment.”
“Whatever.” The ground shifted and Jaskier knew they were making their way up the gangplank and back onto the ship. This was the part he’d been waiting for! Geralt kicked in his cabin door and stepped inside, turning to close and lock it behind them. Jaskier wriggled impatiently. “Set me down!”
“Hmm, no. I rather like the view from here.”
“Excuse me?”
Geralt gave him a gentle smack on the ass, almost a pat really, and huffed out a laugh at Jaskier’s offended noise. “You’ve been an awful lot of trouble for a nobleman and a captive.”
“I’m barely a captive, Geralt. Give it up already.”
“You haven’t signed the book.” He set Jaskier back on his feet and looped his arms around the younger man’s waist to pull him close. “You’re still a captive until you swear on the book and sign your name next to the others. Then you’ll be part of my crew.”
“I have yet to negotiate for my shares,” the brunette stated. He tilted his chin back, baring his neck slightly and offering Geralt his ale-damp lips. “Ten crowns after every capture and I get to sleep in here with you. That sounds fair.”
“You’re a good worker. Seven crowns, you can sleep in here with me, and you can borrow my bandannas whenever you want.”
“Even the red one?”
“Especially the red one.”
Jaskier’s soft pink mouth brushed against the pirate’s as he murmured his answer: “Deal.”
Geralt’s lips crashed against Jaskier’s with the strength of a wave hitting the side of his ship in a maelstrom. The Captain’s mouth was so warm and his lips moved against the younger man’s with almost frightening determination. As if he was trying to prove himself. His arms were strong around the nobleman’s lower back and his white hair brushed deliciously against the skin of Jaskier’s neck.
“You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.”
“Oh, Geralt,” the younger man sighed, opening his mouth to let the other in. I never thought the word ‘plunder’ could apply to kissing but here I stand, corrected by experience yet again. The White Wolf of the Seven Seas pulled away, made breathless by a young and foolish nobleman in search of adventure.
“I’m not a siren, you know. Not even a little. My family’s estate is landlocked.”
Geralt’s fingers rose from his waist and brushed against his cheekbone reverently. Those amber eyes, so cold and focused when he shouted orders or intimidated a merchant captain, were looking down at Jaskier with such devoted tenderness. The ex-noble felt his heart fill anew and double in size. There wasn’t enough room in his body to hold all of this feeling.
“Kiss me again, Captain. Take me to bed.”
“You’re too good at tempting me. You must be evil.”
“I assure you,” Jaskier smirked, ripping Geralt’s shirt over his head in one smooth movement. “I am.”
(I had a nasty evening so I decided to treat myself/y’all with some more swashbuckling/pirate au stuff)
Jaskier was three days into his ‘captivity’ aboard the Kaer Morhen when he decided he’d like to flirt with the Captain. They hadn’t captured another ship since they’d taken everything off the one he was traveling on, even though they’d passed a few bountiful-looking galleons.
It appeared that they were on their way to another country entirely. Probably somewhere they could sell off the stolen cargo. The crew would likely spend a few nights in town wasting their shares on drinks, tattoos, and women before heading back out to sea.
He wondered if they were going to send a ransom note back to Lettenhove Estate and force him to stay ashore until his Father arrived. He shuddered at the thought. “Cold?” that now-familiar gravelly voice questioned. Geralt stood in the doorway to the galley, arms crossed over his chest and cutlass dangling from his hip. Jaskier tried not to tear up at the sight of him looking so cocksure and relaxed. He’s so fucking gorgeous. Is this a curse or a blessing?
“Not cold, just had a nasty thought.”
“What could possibly be worrying your pretty little head?”
Pointedly ignoring the fact that Captain Geralt had called him pretty, Jaskier sent the man a wan smile. “Not looking forward to going home.”
“Hmm.”
____________________________
Geralt could not find his dark red kerchief anywhere. It had been a favorite accessory of his since he’d picked it off a silk-trading ship last year and it did a damn good job of keeping his long white hair out of his eyes. He had others that he could wear but the red one was special and being a superstitious sailor, he’d prefer to have it back in his possession.
But it was missing! On a ship! It had to be in his cabin somewhere, because where else could it possibly be? After a solid ten minutes of searching, the Captain gave up. He grabbed a strip of purple fabric from the chest at the end of his bed and used that to tie his hair back instead.
I hope that damned thing turns up so-
Oh, there it was. It was swinging through the rigging on Jaskier’s head. The aggravating young noble had clearly spent time arranging his hair to make it stand out; there was no other way to make the kerchief so painfully obvious. The sun was practically glaring off the shiny material as he moved around the top of the ship’s mainmast like a seasoned professional.
“Jaskier!”
“Aye, Captain?”
He’d taken to using more nautical language lately and Geralt wasn’t sure if he enjoyed it or if it grated on his nerves. Perhaps a bit of both. Does the lad think he’s staying forever? “Get down here.”
With a short series of death-defying and heart-stopping maneuvers, Jaskier dropped gracefully to the deck in front of his Captain. He hooked his hands together behind his back and smiled sweetly up at Geralt. “Aye, sir?”
“Give it back.”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Give. It. Back.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but you’re going to have to be more specific than that.”
The twinkling of those siren’s eyes and the quirking of his mouth suggested that Jaskier knew exactly what Geralt was asking for and was still playing the fool. The Captain rolled his eyes and reached out to take the strip of fabric out of the idiot noble’s hair but suddenly Jaskier was gone. He’d scurried back up into the rigging and disappeared against the blue of the sky. “Give my kerchief back, Jaskier!”
“Why? Is your hair so lustrous and thick that you need two ties to hold it back? Perhaps it’s time for a haircut, Captain.”
“I’m coming up there and then you’ll be sorry.”
Geralt had quite forgotten that they had an audience in his crew. Eskel and Lambert were close to tears from holding back their laughter and a few of the others were hiding grins as well.
The White Wolf reached out to take hold of a rope and found it suddenly loose and useless in his hands. Jaskier had pulled it straight out of the rigging. Geralt growled and took hold of the rope ladder that connected the deck to the mizzenmast. His prey still danced and jigged atop the yardarm of the mainmast, the Captain’s red silk tie flickering in the wind as he did.
At last the pirate reached the top and yanked Jaskier down to meet him. “I’m going to throw you headfirst into the sea.”
“Ah, but Captain,” the young noble smiled, leaning only slightly back into the empty air. Geralt’s arm went around his waist immediately to prevent him from falling to his death on the deck below. Jaskier grinned like the cat that caught the mouse, “I think you’d miss me if you threw me overboard.”
Geralt’s mouth went dry as the blue-eyed sea nymph leaned ever closer.
“I think you would miss me rather a lot, hmm?”
“I don-”
Jaskier pressed his lips to the Captain’s. Once. Briefly. A touch that began and ceased so quickly that it left Geralt’s head spinning. His arm was still holding the noble close, pressing their chests together against the blue of the sky. His other hand was still holding fast to the rope ladder for support. “You can have your kerchief back, Captain,” Jaskier relented, trading the red cloth in his hair for the purple in Geralt’s. “But not your heart.”
Geralt found the parrot looking very depressed in a Novigrad shop window and couldn't stop himself from rescuing her. He couldn't help himself. He loved animals. He hated to see them caged and in distress.
Which this bird clearly was. She needed him.
So he took her back to the ship and let her roam freely in his cabin and eventually the deck. Jaskier took a liking to her of course and frowned when Geralt said her name was Roach. "That's a type of bug. She eats bugs, Geralt. It's just mean."
"It's a bird. She doesn't care what she's called so long as she's fed and able to roam."
"Names are important."
Jaskier spent an unusual amount of time with the bird for a week or so after that, petting her and giving her little pieces of dried fruit. Geralt grew suspicous.
Apparently he had good reason to feel that way.
One day as he was steering them away from the coast, Roach flew up and landed on his shoulder. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence; Geralt got the feeling that she liked purveying her crew from such a high vantage point. Everyone spoiled her silly and she kept a mother bird's eye on them in return.
It was normal until she turned her little head in his direction and squawked a singular word. A word so clear and bright that nobody but Jaskier could have taught her how to say it.
"Bitch."
Jaskier was giggling like mad from down on the main deck. He pointed at Geralt's shocked expression and bent nearly in half with the force of his next laugh. "Names are important," he wheezed.
Pirate AU! I just read the one where Geralt and Jaskier where dancing. How does Jaskier's friends from Oxenfurt react to seeing pirate Jaskier. Like what if one of his friends... or better yet his rival Valdo Marx, was on a ship that the Wolves were looting and Jaskier went full pirate on his ass???
“Geralt, my darling, we have to take this ship. Please, I’m begging you.”
“It’s an eight gunner, Jask. I’m not risking it.”
“First of all, that is a Redanian merchant ship so I know for a fact that only two of those canons actually work. Second, I can see my rival from university strolling the deck with his lute and I want to hit him over the head with it.”
“Jaskier has enemies aboard that thing?” Eskel asked. “Why not just take it?”
“Men,” Geralt called from the helm. His crew turned to him expectantly. “Vote’s up. Do we take the Redanian Galleon or not?”
“Did I hear that Jaskier has enemies aboard?” someone asked.
“Aye. A rival from school.”
“Let’s kick their asses!”
Jaskier, the little minx, let out a giddy whoop and kissed Geralt full on the mouth. The crew jeered and teased as they made their way belowdecks to arm the canons. This would be a short fight, Geralt knew, but it would certainly be one to remember.
---
Jaskier would forever covet the memory of Valdo Marx’s face when he swung across the short distance between their ships and landed on the deck with a graceful thud.
“Hand over your finery and cargo and we’ll happily be on our way, good sirs.”
“J-Julian?” the other, lesser poet gasped. “You can’t be serious! I thought I’d heard a rumor that you’d run off to join the circus but piracy? Oh, dearest Julian, this is just too good.”
“Did you read the name of my ship, good sir?” Jaskier asked, drawing his cutlass rather casually. “I’m not just any pirate.”
Geralt crossed the boarding planks behind him, then. He felt the weight of those strong hands on his hips and he smirked. Valdo’s face went pale and rigid with anger, shock, hatred, humiliation, and was that jealousy? Jaskier loved each and every one of the other man’s disbelieving expressions.
Well, he had dressed Geralt up a little bit this time. He was wearing the black velvet coat, the tight trousers, the shiny black boots and his most impressive hat. Standing next to Jaskier, who’d stuck with a plain white shirt and breeches (while barefoot of course, he hated shoes) he made a rather stunning picture.
They made a rather stunning picture.
Jaskier personally held Valdo at sword-point while Geralt and the others unloaded the ship of its valuables. They were carrying cloth, honey, gold, and even some more exotic wines and liquors from Redania. Things Jaskier was familiar with. He nonchalantly quoted price estimates to the crew as they passed with certain items, only serving to make Valdo angrier and Geralt more impressed.
The risk of danger had been well worth their reward.
Once the ship was empty and the boarding planks were nearly all pulled back to the deck of the Kaer Morhen, Jaskier lowered his sword and slid it back into his belt. “Lovely seeing you again, Valdo. Do send your wonderful Mother my warmest regards.”
“Time to go, little nymph,” the Captain announced, appearing at his side once again.
“So soon?”
“What are you waiting for, a kiss goodbye?” Valdo snarled.
“That would be lovely, actually,” Jaskier smirked. Geralt took the hint and grabbed him by the waist for a passionate kiss. It only served to anger the little siren’s rival even more, which is exactly what he’d hoped for.
“You’re welcome,” Geralt teased when he finally pulled away.
“One more,” Jaskier pouted. “For good measure.”
Geralt wasn’t going to argue with that. Arguing against Jaskier when he wanted something, it turned out, was rather counterproductive.
If you're taking fic requests, for your swashbuckler au, could I ask how you'd think Jaskier would react to an *actual* sirens song? Enthralled?? Resistant? Sung promises of his beloved sea captain even though he's literally a step away, if that??? The irony got to me and now I'm just curious lol (ps your username is golden and made me laugh thanks for that lol💙)
(I’m so glad you like my url! I had a laugh coming up with it and I was really glad when it wasn’t already taken. I hope limrx doesn’t get mad at me for changing the canon of this au but just for this ficlet I had a great idea...also fair warning the ending is kinda Horny)
Jaskier didn’t notice anything strange when the Kaer Morhen started to round the corner of some tiny island while making her way out to sea. He didn’t know why the other men kept turning their heads towards the land mass and pausing their work to stare off at some distant piece of sky. He didn’t realize anything was wrong until Billy Jukes nearly threw himself overboard. By then, everyone could hear the singing.
Everyone except Jaskier.
“Sirens!” Geralt shouted, grimacing with the effort it was taking him to continue steering the ship. Every muscle in his body was tense. “Cover your ears and get the wax from belowdecks! Run!”
Jaskier wasn’t hearing shit.
Still, he raced to the hold and grabbed two pinches of wax from a half-melted tallow candle, carrying them back to the quarterdeck and thrusting them at Geralt. “Quickly, Captain, put this in your ears.”
“What about you?”
“I can’t hear them!”
“What?!” Geralt was shocked. His amber eyes flashed with concern and mild fright but he took the wax from Jaskier and stuffed it into his ears nonetheless. “Why can’t you hear anything?”
Jaskier shrugged. He could have answered aloud but Geralt wouldn’t have been able to hear him anyway. He tied the emergency rope around Geralt’s waist, which was usually only used during torrential storms, and secured the Captain against the wheel. He wandered closer to the railing and peered towards shore. He could barely see them, laying half-in and half-out of the water, their shark-like tails stirring little waves against the surface.
Sirens.
Their mouths were moving but the ex-noble remained unbothered.
He stayed in that spot until they were well out of range. When it was safe, he returned to Geralt’s side and released him from the helm. “Why can’t you hear them?”
“I don’t know,” Jaskier murmured. The Captain could see how frightened his little nymph really was. The brunette’s hands fisted into the black cloth of Geralt’s shirt. “Please don’t throw me overboard, sir, please!”
“My sweet siren,” Geralt began. “And I can call you that whenever I want since we know for sure now that you have some measure of mer-blood in you; I will never throw you overboard. Your sisters would surely eat you because you were probably the runt of the litter."
"Hey!"
"I jest, Jask."
“My Estate...”
“Landlocked, you told us many times.”
“How?”
“Magic is chaotic,” Geralt shrugged. “No matter. Now we have a creature of the sea on our side.”
“Thinking about that escape in Novigrad...it makes sense,” Eskel added, wandering over. Starkey was close behind and nodding sagely.
“No wonder you have the Captain so bewitched.”
“Oh no!” Jaskier wrenched himself from the pirate’s comforting arms and backed away, horrified. “Geralt, I didn’t mean to - oh gods what have I -”
“My siren,” the Captain smiled, stepping forward and reaching out for Jaskier’s hand. Eskel and Starkey moved away again, granting the two men some much-needed privacy. “My darling little nymph. My heart and soul would belong to you regardless of your parentage. I think there’s more human in you than siren, anyway. You still can’t hypnotize anyone with your voice or show them their wildest dreams in a song.”
“What did you see when they sang to you?” Jaskier asked, voice almost too quiet to hear. Geralt knew the ex-noble needed some reassurance.
“I saw you.”
“What?”
“When she was putting her spell on me and trying to get me to leap into the waves,” Geralt said, trailing his fingertips down Jaskier’s spine and lighting up every one of the younger man’s nerves. “She sang about you. How lovely she could make you look for me. How pliant she could make you be for me.”
“Oh.” Jaskier blushed. “But you managed to hold back until I brought you the wax.”
“No song can beat the real thing. Anyway, my little nymph, I’d never want you any other way than how you are.”
(prompt fill for @ciaimpala, this one was super fun and hurt me to write)
Everything happening around Jaskier felt murky and far away, as if it was happening to someone else instead and he had only managed to catch parts of it. His body was jostled and moved and contorted and lifted and carried. He felt battered and exhausted despite being unconscious for the better part of five whole days.
They kept the kidnapped nobleman drugged and groggy as he was smuggled from a private port in Oxenfurt to his family’s estate in Lettenhove. Once he arrived at the keep and the sleeping drought wore off, his family’s hired mage put him under an enchantment. He obeyed direct orders and could not speak of his own volition; it was hell.
He knew he was being punished for all the trouble he’d caused at sea. He had used their family name to get Geralt out of trouble more than once and now the real Lord Pankratz was getting his revenge. He was marrying Jaskier off to the Countess once and for all.
With no pirates to interfere.
---
When the day of Jaskier’s wedding arrived, the young noble felt his heart shatter apart in his chest. The servants dressed and groomed him, trimming the hair he’d worked so hard to grow out while at sea. He knew how much Geralt loved to curl his fingers there and drag them against the smooth skin at the back of his neck. He almost shuddered at the thought of that sensation alone.
But it didn’t matter, did it? He’d never see his darling White Wolf again.
He’d been grabbed off the street some dingy port town in Temeria and rushed across the straight to Oxenfurt overnight. Geralt probably didn’t even know where he was or who had taken him. Jaskier would probably be on his heavily guarded honeymoon by the time his Captain found him again.
He was ordered downstairs by his Mother and he marched into the great hall for his wedding ceremony with a grim sense of acceptance.
---
“Do you, Countess Rosamund Elise DeStael of Rinde, take Lord Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do.”
“And do you, Lord Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove, take Countess Rosamund Elise DeStael of Rinde to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was aching over the loss of his Geralt like a wounded man grieves for a lost limb. Even in he agreed to this marriage he’d be a living corpse, anyhow. He’d never smile again if he said ‘I do’ and accepted the Countess as his wife. She was a piss poor replacement for his mischievous, tender, possessive White Wolf.
As the silence lengthened in the great hall and his Father glared him down from his place next to the priest, something deep in his chest came bubbling up. It wrenched itself from him, screaming for freedom.
It was his voice.
Not his normal voice, however. No. This voice was bright and brassy and dark. It was full of the pain of a thousand drowned sailors. He let it come bursting forth from his mouth, filling the air with words he didn’t know he’d even learned. Words in a language he felt but didn’t understand.
The priest fell to his knees, as did his father and his would-be wife. Every person in the keep who could hear his voice suddenly fell to the ground and desperately tried to cover their ears. The siren in him had reached its limit. It wanted its beloved mate. His Captain. His Geralt.
He wouldn’t be pacified until they were together again.
Luckily...
“I object!” Lambert yelled. The familiar pirate burst through the doors of the great hall with his cutlass drawn. Starkey and Eskel were close behind, with his darling White Wolf taking up the rear. Three of the four pirates fell to their knees like the rest of the party-goers but Geralt remained standing.
Jaskier realized that he was still singing. The tone had changed from deep-seated hatred and loss to something brighter and lighter at Geralt’s appearance. Something soft and full of love. He let himself babble out the unfamiliar notes and words as his Captain moved towards him down the aisle. Only when those strong arms held him tightly and those chapped lips pressed against his own did Jaskier cease his singing.
“Sirens,” Eskel groaned, pulling himself to a standing position. “You are not to be fucked with, Jaskier.”
“Wait, Geralt, if I can’t be compelled by sirens then why can my family?”
Lord Pankratz looked guilty and wouldn’t make eye contact with any of the pirates or his son. Geralt shrugged. “Maybe you were a foundling.”
Jaskier turned to his Father with wide, angry eyes. “You absolute bas-”
“My love,” Geralt murmured, tightening his grip on the younger man’s waist. His little nymph stilled in his arms at the sound of his voice. “There’s still a wedding to be had, if you’d like.”
“I don’t want to marry the Countess.”
“I didn’t say it was your wedding to her,” Geralt grinned. His siren’s eyes swam with happy tears and he nodded enthusiastically. “As you said to me once before, my love, let us never be parted.”
Swashbucking prompt - Jaskier singing for the crew, on deck after the capture of a merchant ship or narrow escape. Everyone is more than a little tipsy, and the way the Jaskier's hair shines in the moonlight, and his eyes reflect the candlelight is the inly thing the captain can focus on. Hes just, so in love.
Tonight was a good night to be aboard the Kaer Morhen. They’d taken a rum runner, an illegal rum runner masquerading as a generic merchant vessel. Not only was their hold full of liquor, cloth, and some costume jewelry they could pawn off as legitimate, but they’d had instruments.
Normally that wouldn’t matter to the pirate crew at all, but now they had Jaskier aboard, and Jaskier had a degree in the bardic arts from a rather prestigious university.
So, naturally, he was showing off.
They’d all had a bit to drink from the rum runner’s supply, Geralt included, and they were sitting in scattered groups across the deck to watch him perform. His eyes, so blue in the light of the sun, were a stormy grey in the darkness. Geralt couldn’t help but stare.
He was dancing a little as he sang a rather inappropriate shanty, really playing up his role as troubadour for the crew:
“I used to be a rovin' lad.
A rovin' and wanderin' life I had.
On any lass I'd frown, who would try to tie me down.
“But then one day I saw a maid,
Who held out her hand, and I stayed and stayed.
And now across the green, I'll go home with Bonnie Jean!”
The men picked up the chorus with him, filling the open air with raucous song:
“Go home, go home, go home with Bonnie Jean!
Go home, go home, I'll go home with Bonnie Jean!”
He stopped paying attention to the words after that. He only had eyes for the bard/pirate/noble who was casting his spell over the crew.
The way his soft, rosy cheeks looked under the light of the full moon was ethereal. His hair had grown since he’d come aboard and now it curled ever so teasingly at the nape of his neck, begging to be pulled and petted. It bounced as he danced and Geralt was stupefied by the movement. The White Wolf remained paralyzed in place even as the urge to touch, claim, protect echoed in his very soul.
He couldn’t wait to take the man to bed after his performance. He couldn’t wait to bury his nose in the crook of Jaskier’s neck and breath in the sweat and seawater and sunshine that gathered there. Piracy wasn’t the cleanest job but somehow his little nymph never smelled too bad.
One of those blue-grey eyes winked in his direction and Geralt’s heart sped up again. It was a promise. A gift. A private moment for just the two of them. Fuck it, the pirate Captain thought, grinning widely. I’m in love.
So, I've personally always been a fan of sick fic type things. What would the crew do if/when Jaskier gets sick while they're at sea? I'm not sure if all the crew are Witchers but that would make for funny shenanigans because being Witchers they probably don't get silly human sicknesses. I imagine at least some of them panic. (I'm no good at prompts but I hope this counts?💜)
Jaskier never got seasick. He’d taken to the rolling decks like a newborn horse takes to walking. Unsteady at first but quick to learn. Whatever was battering his body now was not simple seasickness.
This was different. This was a fever that didn’t seem to break. This was several long nights at his side while his body cramped and convulsed, his eyes rolled so far back into his head that only the whites still showed. He couldn’t eat. He barely slept. They couldn’t even get a spoonful of water to stay in his stomach for more than a few minutes.
Geralt didn’t know what to do.
He was afraid to go to sleep, worried that if he let himself nod off Jaskier might die in his absence. He couldn’t bear the thought of his little nymph disappearing from his life forever. He stayed awake, a vigilant guard against Death itself. He’d only just met the man, after all. They’d only had a few joy-filled months together. It wasn’t fair.
On the fourth night of his illness, Jaskier’s fever finally broke. He fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, his sweat-damp hair clinging messily to his forehead and cheeks. Geralt wiped his siren’s skin clean with a damp cloth and changed him into clean, dry clothes. He held the younger man in his arms while Starkey and Lambert changed the sheets and stuffed the mattress pad with fresh hay. They brought a small tin of rum and a tin mug of water
As he slipped into his own little patch of darkness, Geralt wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s slim waist and hauled his body close. Death could not steal his siren away in wakefulness; he wouldn’t even give Death a chance to get close in sleep.
“Sleep well, little nymph,” the pirate Captain whispered into his darling’s matted hair. “And when you wake I will be here with you. Every morning until you’ll have me no more.”
