(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.”
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Pirate au: Jaskier breathing for geralt underwater?
“Jaskier, my love, what are you doing?”
“Hush,” the half-siren frowns. He cups the back of his husband’s skull with one careful hand and pulls the slightly taller man’s lips down to meet his. They’re standing shoulder-deep in a warm cove with the Kaer Morhen at anchor nearby. A nice break for the crew and for two tired fathers/pirates.
“Jaski-”
The ex-noble presses his lips to the Captain’s and Geralt feels a warm tingling sensation spread across his shoulders and down into his chest. His heart beats faster. His lungs expand more slowly. It feels...odd.
It feels odd until Jaskier dunks him underwater and he takes a surprised gasp of water and breathes through it.
The siren joins him beneath the waves a moment later, a bright smile lighting his delicate features. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Siren kisses let you breathe underwater?” Geralt questions, adjusting slowly to the way his voice sounds beneath the surface of the waves. Jaskier nods and flicks his gorgeous tail out behind him, propelling him in little circles around his husband. Predator-like.
A shiver makes its way down Geralt’s spine and the siren cocks a curious eyebrow. “Swim away quickly, Captain,” he coos, brushing the length of his tail down one of Geralt’s bare legs. “Before I catch you and make you my dinner.”
The Captain gapes for a moment, blushes, and then takes off as fast as he can swim.
Jaskier gives him a few minutes head start; there’s no way Geralt is going to win.
for the lovely @jaskierswolf, hope it brightens your day a little
---
Jaskier dropped from the rigging onto his husband’s back and gave a bright laugh when Geralt grunted from the impact.
“Little nymph,” he rumbled, “Not so little as you once were, eh?”
“Piracy has strengthened my body and proximity to the sea has sharpened my wit,” the half-siren replied. He nuzzled his face into his husband’s neck and pressed a quick kiss to the warm skin there, “Alas, you’ve only made me stronger in my captivity.”
“We’re married, Jaskier.”
“Aye.”
“You haven’t been a captive aboard this vessel in over a year.”
“Perhaps this is true,” the younger man mused. “But you’ve still captured my heart, fairest Captain. My handsome White Wolf of the Seven Seas.”
Geralt swung the mischievous brunette around his body until the smaller man was cradled in his arms. He kissed Jaskier thoroughly breathless before depositing him on his feet on the deck. “There’s work to be done, nymph.”
“Aye, Captain,” Jaskier saluted before hiking himself back into the rigging. He blew a kiss when he reached the mizzenmast crossbeam. Geralt pretended to catch it, to his darling spouse’s giddy joy, and tucked it into the brim of his hat. Jaskier spent the rest of his time repairing some ripped canvas with a huge smile on his face and a soft, happy love song on his lips.
HC for you: Geralt is actually really fucking smooth romantically and Jaskier tries to call him on it and ends up getting the absolute life flirted out of him (I hope your day gets better my love, mwahmwah)
(I hope you’re okay with my pirate au because I missed the boys so I leaned in for some more seafaring content)
This is just...very soft and self-indulgent. Geralt is the Nicest Boy.
warning: kinda horny?
---
“Jaskier,” Geralt calls, wading his way through the bustling tavern to meet the younger man at the bar. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, little nymph.”
“I told you where I’d be going,” the younger man pouts cutely, sticking his lip out. Geralt leans down to nip at it, uncaring about the other patrons’ reactions. Jaskier blushes and buries his head against his husband’s broad, strong shoulder. He glances up through his eyelashes the way he know Geralt likes and asks, “Get everything traded off, paid for, and dealt with?”
“Aye, and we’ll resupply tomorrow,” the Captain explains. Jaskier nods his understanding. He’s been aboard long enough to understand the basic procedures involved with selling stolen cargo and restocking the ships’ stores for their next venture. He’s even helped Starkey take stock of the galley before. Not to mention his childhood spent among the nobility, which allows him to identify rare or expensive items aboard their target ships better than most of the others. He regularly keeps them from getting cheated by merchants or fences.
“So what are your plans for this evening then, Captain?”
“Well, Jaskier,” the pirate murmurs, sliding his hand along the skin of his darling’s waist, just beneath the hem of his shirt, “I was thinking we could spend some quality time together.”
“And if I’d like to stay ashore and drink a little longer?”
“You, my sweet wife,” the Captain continues to speak lowly and sweetly, tightening his grip on Jaskier’s slender hips, “Can do or have anything you’d like.”
“Hmm,” Jaskier teases, eyes roaming the tavern’s support beams as if his answer lies there, “Perhaps I’d like for you to do something impossible.”
“For you, my love, nothing is impossible,” the white-haired pirate asserts, slowly bringing their chests together by sliding a hand up Jaskier’s spine. He ghosts his lips against his little siren’s ear as he speaks, leaning down and nearly caging the younger man in against the bar with the mass of his body. He can hear Jaskier’s breathing growing more and more labored as he tries to remain calm. The bard doesn’t look panicked, though, so Geralt continues with his breathy onslaught, “I would sail the Kaer Morhen up to the stars if you so desired, and fashion you a circlet made of night. I would turn myself in to the Redanian authorities and let your Father keep me in his dungeon for as long as he wishes. I would fight to the death with any man here if you willed me to do it, love.”
“Geralt,” the half-siren gasped, breath caught somewhere between his throat and his lungs. “You-”
“Are madly in love,” the pirate asserted. The hand resting between Jaskier’s shoulder blades reached up to cradle the back of his head and the bard sighed, lips parting to accept Geralt’s claim on them. The White Wolf trails kisses across his little nymph’s jaw and over to the spot behind his ear where he knows the younger man is sensitive. The Captain whispers again, clearly enjoying the effect he has on his darling wife, “Anything you want, anything that catches your passing fancy, I will give to you.”
“Well, it’s more than just a passing fancy,” Jaskier replies, blue eyes captivated by Geralt’s gold, “But I would like to claim your heart as my own.”
The White Wolf’s fingers move from behind his siren’s head to finger the red silk bandanna holding his brown locks out of his eyes. “Remember when you stole this from me for the first time?”
“Yes. That was also the day of our first kiss,” Jaskier blushes.
“You said that I could have this piece of fabric, but that you wouldn’t give my heart back,” Geralt rumbles. “And as far as I know, you’ve had it ever since. I cannot give to you what you already own, my dear little nymph.”
Jaskier tears up and kisses his Captain. His husband. His love.
PIRATES!?!?!? When ciri gets a little older does she climb the rigging and give her father's heart attacks?
Oh you bet your sweet ass she does
---
It had been six years since the pirate Captain and the half-siren, ex-noble had brought Cirilla onboard the Kaer Morhen. She’d grown into quite the little pirate princess, always teasing her crewmates and getting into trouble.
“Papa! Look!” she hung upside down from the mizzenmast support beam and grinned ferociously. “I could be in the circus!”
“Well you’re on a ship so it would be really lovely if you could-”
“GET DOWN FROM THERE!” Starkey orders, yelling over the top of Jaskier’s voice. “YOU’RE GOING TO FALL AND BREAK YOUR NECK AND THEN BOTH YOUR DADS WILL KILL ME.”
“I wouldn’t want you keelhauled,” Ciri frowned, scampering gracefully down to the deck. She clung to Geralt’s leg and climbed him next, throwing her arms around his neck as she laid across his broad back. “Right, Father?”
“Hmm.”
“Papa says you have to use your words.”
“That’s right,” Jaskier nodded, patting her head. “Very good, Cirilla.”
“Ciri,” she insisted. “Captain Ciri, someday.”
Geralt buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Fuck.”
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A lot of struggling and splashing (and laughing on little baby Ciri’s part). A lot of cussing and sighing and silly faces on Geralt and Jaskier’s parts.
Then Lambert teaches her to cuss so...
“Fuck!” Ciri exclaims, hitting Geralt directly in the forehead with her rubber duck. “Fuck!”
I heard you were asking for prompts so! I am mid oc song writing so you're getting some kinda poetic phrases today, go wild
"I am lonely and looking for a hand to hold."
"Sunrise is red today."
-sol
we’re going... a-pirating.
---
Jaskier glanced out at the rising sun and shook his hair out of his eyes, “Sunrise is red today, Geralt. Not a good sign.”
“We’ll get closer to the coast before we batten down,” the Captain decided, wrapping an arm around the half-siren’s shoulders. “Otherwise we’ll get hit by the full brunt and I know you hate storms.”
“That I do,” Jaskier nodded. “And I’m sure that Ciri probably won’t fare much better.”
“Speaking of the little sea-witch,” Geralt glanced around the deck, “Where is that mischievous daughter of ours?”
“She’s with Starkey and Lambert.”
“Oh no.”
---
“Alright, Cirilla,” Lambert instructed, taking one of her tiny, chubby hands in his. “Now this is how you hold a dagger properly.”
He used his finger as the hilt, adjusting her grip until it was correct and smiling when she squeezed confidently. Even toddlers could make for decent swordsmen if you started them early enough and Ciri was no exception.
“What are you teaching her now?” Geralt asked from the doorway, ushering his impatient wife through the door. Jaskier curled up on the floor next to Ciri and cooed delightedly when she moved her hand from Lambert’s to his, demonstrating her dagger grip.
Jaskier began to chitter excitedly in the Language and Ciri giggled back in her own bubbly way. They both spoke the same tongue but while Jaskier’s consonants were sharp and distinctive, Cirilla’s were rounded and softer. “Dialects,” the ex-noble had once explained to his doe-eyed husband. “She and I come from different circles.”
“You come from no circle,” Geralt had rolled his eyes. “You were raised on land.”
“And a tragedy that was.”
Now, though, the two of them communicated easily. Sometimes the Captain felt a little left out but mostly he was happy that his wife was happy. And his gorgeous adopted daughter.
“I’ll get her a real weapon soon,” Starkey nodded. “The little menace.”
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.”
