(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.”
"You have to know I'm in love with you" for Hartwin pretty please?
Thank you!!! And anything for you, darling. *kisses*
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It was like someone had knocked the air right out of his lungs. Eggsy stood at the foot of Harry’s medical bed; he’d ended up there, again. Trying for the life of him to figure out how a man so bloody smart, could be so daft.
“You are not required to be here.” The statement held more doubt than Eggsy was sure Harry intended. Like the words were forced around gravel and spit out with pure ignorance.
Eggsy tossed his hands up. “You’re pretty fucking dense, you know that?” That seemed to offend Harry. His eye grew wide, nose raised in only a way Harry could manage while injured. “I ain’t leaving you.”
To make a point, Eggsy sat at his bedside, crossed his legs and folded hands over his knee, staring at Harry. He wanted to kick him, but that would be unkind considering his right arm was in a cast.
“Eggsy,” Harry sighed, almost resigned.
“Harry,” Eggsy challenged, less patient that Harry had been. “I ain’t leaving,” he added softer.
Harry huffed through his nostrils, annoyance among other things evident on his features, as he situated his injured arm better on a pillow.
“I’m sure you’d rather be doing better things, than sit by an old fools bedside.” That got up Eggsy’s back worse than when Harry told him to leave the room. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to stay,” Harry reminded him.
Eggsy shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? I love you, Harry.” He leaned forward to touch his good hand. “Ain’t no other place I’d rather be.” The love confession seemed to weigh on Harry’s face. It etched the fine wrinkles on his skin with disbelief and deepened them as he grew heavy with doubt.
“You do?” Is what he whispered.
Eggsy placed his lips tenderly to Harry’s bruised knuckles, being sure to kiss each one, and gazed up at the man who held his whole damn heart and didn’t even know it.
“You have to know I’m in love with you,” Eggsy murmured. It was like he saw Harry for the first time. His expression turned soft, almost youthful for a man nearly sixty, and tender. Harry took a deep breath, as if the revelation was somehow impossible.
Eggsy nodded, unable to provide further verbal assurance, but lifted up to capture his lips in the gentlest kiss ever, mindful to be careful of his healing busted lip. He could feel Harry’s smile as he pulled away. It was wide, as his remaining eye filled with tears, and cracked his busted lip; he really needed to cut this shit and take the position as Arthur.
The upbeat music is loud in the house as Eggsy scrubs at the cabinet doors in the kitchen. They’ve babysat Daisy last night and might have had a small food fight between baking two batches of cookies. And even as he is slightly cursing under his breath at a particularly reclacitrant spot of batter, he can’t bring himself to regret it. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s laugh so hard than when he teamed up with Daisy to break an egg on Harry’s head.
Cleaning the kitchen is his self-appointed penance for unjustly turning it into a two against one fight. Harry has been such a good sport about the whole thing that the least Eggsy can do take care of the whole mess.
And put on a bit of a show for Harry as he shakes his hips to the rhythm of the song. He always feels a bit self-conscious about dancing around Harry, no matter how many times Harry reassures him that he adores watching him.
But as long as he doesn’t turn around, it’s not too hard to pretend he’s completely unaware that Harry is leaning against the doorway, looking at him and has been for some time now.
His plans to keep on focusing on the dirty cabinet while he dances are disrupted when the next song starts and the slow melody throws him off. He grumbles as he turns around to grab his phone and fix it. But his phone is no longer on the counter behind him but insead in Harry’s hands even if he’s already in the process of putting it back where he picked it up from.
It’s in times like these that Eggsy is reminded of just how good a spy Harry is, for having come up so close to him without ever triggering any of his instincts. Maybe it should scare him, make him wary, but really, it just gives him a trill that his lover only uses his skills so he can do silly romantic gestures like that.
“May I have this dance?” Harry offers him a hand but doesn’t come closer, as always respecting Eggsy’s right to choose. But Eggsy simply cannot envision a day he’ll ever refuse Harry.
So he steps closer and takes his hand, a surprised giggle escaping him when Harry’s other arm wrapped around his waist and drags him closer still.
Eggsy had been expecting a waltz or something, but apparently, Harry only wants them to slowly sway together to the gentle music.
Eggsy can totally get behind that.
He lets his free arm close around Harry and rests his head on his shoulder, sighing happily when Harry takes advantage of the position to brush a kiss against his temple.
It’s a long time before Eggsy goes back to his cleaning.
I read "Of Your Making" on recommendation and it was excellent!! The carcerem's visual worldbuilding was so vivid I'll probably be thinking about it for weeks. Also Harry's guilt and turmoil was v delicious and made for a great pay off for the slow burn. I'm looking forward to the rest of what you have to offer :)
which hartwin headcanon do you prefer: harry as arthur and eggsy as galahad, or both of them as active agents together? i like harry as arthur because i don't trust him not to die again in the field.
HMMMM okay, like, i think it’s fun the whole double galahad thing and i love field agent harry but... idk it gives them more stability when harry’s arthur and not going out and being reckless every other day... and i like the idea of harry working “office hours” and coming home to a post mission eggsy 😌
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.
